IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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Photographic 

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Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(7161B73-4903 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bib!iographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  beat 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommagie 


□    Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurde  at/ou  pellicul^e 

I       I    Cover  title  missing/ 

I I    Le  t;tre  de  couverture  rnanque 


I      I    Coloured  maps/ 


Cartes  giographiques  e■^  coulaur 


□    Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  cjuleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

□    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

□    Bouni 
Relii 


Bound  with  other  material/ 
avec  d'autres  documents 


D 


n 


D 


Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

Lareliure  serree  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distorsion  le  long  do  la  marge  interieure 

BIfink  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  w=;hin  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajouties 
lors  dune  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  dtait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  iti  filmies. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppldmentaires: 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  ete  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-dtre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  pouvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  m^thode  normala  de  filmage 
sont  indiqu^s  ci-dessoiis. 


r~~]    Coloured  pages/ 


Pagus  da  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommag^es 


r~l    Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 


0 


Pages  restaur^es  et/ou  pelliculdes 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  d6co!'>r6es,  tachet^as  ou  piquees 


n    Pages  detached/ 
Pages  d^tacheas 

r~7   Showthrough/ 


Transparence 

Quality  of  prir 

Quality  indgale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  materii 
Comprend  du  materiel  supplementaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 


I      I    Quality  of  print  varies/ 

|~n    Includes  supplementary  material/ 

I      I    Only  edition  available/ 


The 
toti 


The 
poss 
ott^ 
filmi 


Grig 
bagi 
thai 
sion 
othe 
first 
sion, 
or  ill 


The 
shall 
TINL 
whic 

Map! 
diffe 
entir 
begii 
right 
requi 
meth 


D 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  cnt  ^t^  film^es  A  nouveau  de  facon  a 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film*  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqui  ci-dessous 

10X  14X  18X  22X 


26X 


12X 


y 


16X 


20X 


30X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


i 

itails 
I  du 
odifjer 
une 
maga 


The  copy  filmed  here  ha^  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Harold  Canipbell  Vaughan  Memorial  Librar/ 
Acadia  University 


The  images  oppearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
ot  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  laat  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  ere  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  iHustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last,  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — »>  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED "),  or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 

Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


L'exemplaire  film*  fut  reproduit  grAce  A  la 
g6n«ro8it6  de: 

Harold  Campbell  Vaughan  Memorial  Library 
Acjdia  University 


Les  imeges  suivantes  c-^*  6t6  reproduites  avec  ie 
phis  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettet6  de  Texempiaire  filmd,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  cor.trat  de 
filmage. 

Les  exenr^plaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprim6e  sont  film6s  en  commengant 
par  Ie  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dornidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  Ie  second 
plat,  selon  Ie  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmds  en  commenpant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreime 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  chaque  microfiche,  selon  Ie 
cas:  Ie  symbole  — ^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  Ie 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 

Les  cartas,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  6tre 
film6s  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  Ie  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  cllch6,  il  est  film6  d  partir 
de  Tangle  sup^rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite. 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  Ie  nombre 
d'images  n6cessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m6thode. 


rata 

3 


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a 


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1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

H 


NATURE 


ft- 
.-J 


AND 


HUMAN    N  A  T  U  E  E  . 


BT    THE    AUTHOR    OF 


SAM   SLICK    THE   Oh«)0K-MAKER   ' 

•WISE     SAWS."    ••old    JIJDGR."    BTU 


Hominem,  pggma  nostra  sapit.— Mari. 
Eye  nature's  walks,  shoot  foiiy  a«  it  fliei, 
And  catch  the  manners  living  as  they  ti««.— Fopi. 


NEW    YORK: 
lAHRETT,    DICK    ANT>    FITZOERALD. 
NO.     18    ANN    STREET. 


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CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  I. 

A  SURPRISK  ^ 

■ Page  18 

CHAPTER  n. 

CLIPPERS  AND  STEAMERS 

CHAPTER  ITT. 

UNLOCKING  A  WOMAN'S  HEART  ot 

CHAPTER  ly. 

A  CR^TTUR  WITH  A   THOUSAND   yi^TUES  AND  BUT  ONE 

• 4 

CHAPTER  V. 

A   NEW   WAY  TO   LEARN   GAELIC. q^ 

(ix.)""" 


w 

*  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   WOUNDS   OP  THE   HEART 75 

CHAPTER  VII. 

FIDDLING,   AND  DANCING,   AND  SERVING  THE  DEVIL...      95 

CHAPTER  Vm. 

STITCHING  A  BUTTON-HOLE 107 

CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  PLURAL  OP  MOOSE 120 

CHAPTER  X. 

A  DAY  ON  THE  LAKE.— PART  L 135 

CHAPTER  XI. 

A  DAT  ON  THE  LAKE. — PART  IL 149 

CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  BETROTHAL jgg 

CHAPTER  Xm. 

A  FOGGY  NIGHT 269 

CHAPTER  XIY. 

FEMALE  COLLEGES Igo 

CHAPTER  XV. 

GIPSEYING    .„.. ;,9g 


CONTENTS.  jjj 

CHAPTER  XYI. 

THE  WORLD  BEFORE  THE  FLOOD £00 

CHAPTEJl  XVII. 

LOST  AT  SEA..., 

CHAPTER  XVHI. 

HOLDING   UP  THE  MIRROR 23? 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  BLNDLE   OF   STICKS Oko 

CHAPTER  XX. 

TOWN  AND    COUNTRY...... 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE  HONEYMOON 

273 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

A  DISH  OF  CLAMS ^ioi: 

.... ----..-.........  Zoo 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  DEVIL'S  HOLE;    OR,    FISH  AND  FLESH ...,    298 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  CUCUMBER  LAKE oao 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE   RECALL 


NATURE  AND  HUMAN  NATURE, 


CHAPTER   I. 

A  SURPRISE.- 

Tnnncs  I  to  myself,  as  I  overheard  a  person  inauirp  r.f  ,h 
servant  at  the  door,  in  an  unmistakable  voice  and  tone  ^l    h' 

t^T  crt  '^'^  ^^  ''S  ^^  "^  ^^^  ^'^^  than  mT  old  frLd  si 
'■  Who  shall  I  say,  Sir  ?" 

iou  near  the  cng»,e  coming  !    Shunt  off  now  >'  "  ' 

hancf  "'ho^i  :!.e  Jor'""  ^"'^  ''  "^^'^'^^  ""'i'  shaking  hi„,  by  the 

HuJtetwK  "'""'"  "^  "P"^'  ""-g"  I  ->•'  Ji«  jump 

look  am  :  or-l'  Vr  "J"?^^'  ^'''"  ^'  ^■'id;  "no  two  of  u, 
welis^'itrk  ::  w/pte':.'.  ''"''  "^S  free  and  enlightened  citil" 

wav       Oh"/'"  ^"'i'"-'"'  '■"P"''^'  ""'y°«  "«e  soft  sawder  that 

~s..^^^-o-oftr;ra^;^t::».r.^^^^^^^^^ 


1  t 


14 


▲     8DRPRISI. 


i»( 


It 


wrerc  pleasant  days,  waru't  they  ?  I  oft^n  think  of  them,  and  think 
ot  thorn  with  plcasiiro  too.  As  I  was  pns^in^r  Unlit-ix  harbor,  on  ray 
way  home  in  the  '  BInck  Hawk,'  the  wind  rv^rtunatolv  carno  aheacL 
and,  thinks  I  to  mys-If,  I  will  put  in  tJiero,  and  pull  toot*  for  Wind- 
sor and  see  the  S'lUire,  give  hnn  my  journal,  an^l  spend  an  hour  6r 
two  with  hii.i  onco  moio.  So  here  I  am,  at  least  what  is  left  of  me, 
and  dreauhil  jQrlnd  J  am  to  see  you  too  ;  but  as  it  is  about  your  din- 
ner hour  I  will  go  and  titivate  up  a  bit,  nml  then  we  will  have  a 
dish  utch^t  tor  dessert,  and  cigars  to  remind  us  of  by-goues,  as  wo 
stroll  through  your  shady  walks  here." 

My  old  friend  had  worn  well;  he  was  still  a  wiry  athLtic  man, 
and  his  step  as  elastic  and  springy  as  ever.  The  eonst^mt  exercise 
he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  takinrr  had  preserved  his  health  artd 
condition,  and  these  in  their  trrn  h;id  enabled  him  to  maintain  his 
cheeitulness  and  humor.  The  lines  in  his  face  were  somewhat 
deeper,  and  a  few  straggling  giay  hairs  were  the  only  traces  of  the 
hjuKi  ot  lime.  IIis  manner  was  much  improved  by  his  intercourse 
with  the  gTcat  world;  but  his  phraseoloi^y,  in  which  he  appeared 
to  take  both  pvKie  and  pleasure,  was  much  the  same  as  when  I  first 
knew  hnn  So  little,  indoed,  was  he  chnngcd,  that  I  could  scarcely 
believe  so  many  years  had  elapsed  since  we  made  our  first  tour 
together. 

It  was  a  most  unexpected  and  agreeable  visit.  He  enlivened  th( 
v.<)nversation  at  dinner  with  anecdotes  that  were  often  too  much  foi 
the  gravity  of  my  servant,  who  once  or  twice  left  the  room  to  avoid 
explosive  outbreaks  of  laughter.  Among  others,  he  told  me  the 
tollowmg  whimsical  story : 

"  When  the  '  Black  flawk '  was  at  Causeau,  we  happened  to  have 
a  (jueer,  onginal  sort  of  man,  a  Nova  Scotia  doctor,  on  board,  who 
joined  our  party  at  Ship  Harbor,  for  the  purpose  of  taking  a  cruise 
with  us.  Not  having  anything  above  particular- to  do,  we  left  the 
vessel  and  took  passage  in  a  coaster  for  Prit\ce  Etlward's  Island, 
as  ray  commission  required  mo  to  spend  a  day  or  two  there  ?nd 
mquire  about  the  fisheries.  Well,  although  I  don't  trade  now,  I 
spekelato  sometimes  when  I  see  a  right  smart  chance,  and  especially 
if  there  is  fun  in  the  transacdon.  So,  sais  I,  '  Doctor,  I  will  play 
possumf  with  these  folks,  and  take  a  rise  out  of  them  that  will 
aston^sh  their  weak  nerves,  /  know,  while  I  put  severnl  hundred 

*  The  Americans  are  not  entitled  ':o  the  credit  or  ridicule,  whichever  people 
may  be  disposed  to  bestow  upon  them,  for  the  extraordinary  phrases  with 
Which  their  conversation  is  occasionally  embellished.  Some  of  them  have 
good  classical  authority.    That  of  "  pull  foot"  may  be  traced  to  Euripides. 

.K^^^®  ?P03siim,  when  chased  by  dogs,  will  often  pretend  to  be  dead,  and 
ttvta  deceive  hia  pursuers.  ^ 


A     8DRPBI81I. 


16 


NMitn   knecliiifr.      ,,  forms  two  sides  of  a  sqimrc    anH   r..nb.a 

said  thI'Cof  ""^^'  '^  ^'^^  ™^  ^^-^y  ^-r  of  those  knees. 

"'Nothing,'  said  I,  'but  to  raise  a  lau^h  on  these  crufpr^  on  i 

»"'^ke  them  pay  real  handsome  for  the  jokl'  "''''  ''"'^ 

'  Well,    every    bushwhacker   and    forr -^ramrpp   {,.    t»,„    •  i      i 

Ijr'ss^si-  '^^;isi^y  .t~iS  ttT' 

the  l,v,„g  su.,  was  going  „„,  for  it  soemec^  ^s1t  "Zy  iZ,t\^ 

collection  of  ship-timber  afore,  .nd  i  am  sure  never  will  n"^ 

opened    her  mngs  and  gaped,  m-.s  a  caution  to  dying  calve  '^ 

At  the  time  appomted,  there  were  ei-ht  hundred  sticks  on  fh. 
ground,  the  very  best  in  the  colony.      WeM    I  wen^vp  v  L      i 
round  a„,  .elected  the  four  largest^md  paiVfir  Im  If  do!  J 
on  the  nail,  according  to  contract.     The  goneys  seed  their  Lbu 

for  1  aJv:;^s'7f''^^  ^''  "V^  ''■     T^^^  ^^^^"'^  think  ha  d  of  m  ' 

tj^-xt  ^t^  s  s  ml!  7z:::^::t!;^i 

^rntoh^  their  heads  in  a  way  that  was  harrowing,  ^^^1;  a^ 

in  thi^^  gracious,' sais  I,  '  hackmetacK.,  it  seems  to  me  is  as  thick 
o  Lo  triV  ^^acRberries  in  the  :Fall,  after  the  robin    have  left 
o  go  to  sleep  for  the  winter.     Who  on  earth  would  have  thouS 
here  was  so  many  here?     Oh,  children  of  i.rael '     wLt  a    o 

tWe  IS,  amt  tnere?     Why,  the  father  of  this  island  co^r'.'hdd 

;; ;  Father  of  this  island,'  sais  they,  '  who  is  he  ?  ' 

u  i  A^u^'  ''^'•'  ^'    ^'"^  ^^'^  Pr"'ce  Edward's  ?  ' 

u  .  Wpil'' ''^''•'  'i^  f^ey- Jo^'ki^g  «till  more  puzzled. 

Well,     .a,s   f,  'm    the   middle   of  Ha/ifax    harbor  is  King 


Jeori?e*s  Island,  and  that 


must  bo  the  tath; 


'1-  0. 


this. 


*  -V-. 


16 


A     8DKPRISE 


J  t 


i.Li 


li    F I 


VV  ell  if  they  could  see  any  wit  in  that  speech,  it  is  more  than 
1  cculd,  to  save  my  soul  alive  ;  but  it  is  the  easiest  thh-g  in  the 
WDrld  to  set  a  crowd  off  a  tee-heeing.  They  can't  help  it,  for  it  is 
e.ectncal.  Go  io  the  circus  now,  and  you  will  hear  a  stupid  joke 
ot  the  clown  ;  well,  you  are  determined  you  won't  laugh,  but  some- 
how you  can  t  help  it  no  how  you  can  fix  it,  although  you  are  mad 
with  yourself  for  doing  so,  and  you  juat  roar  out  and  are  as  bio-  a 
fool  as  all  the  rest.  ° 

2  Well  it  made  them  laugh,  and  that  was  enough  for  me. 
"  Sais  I,  '  the  worst  of  it  is,  gentleme;i,  they  are  all  so  shocking 
large,  and  as  there  is  no  small  ones  among  them,  they  can't  be 
divided  into  lots,  still,  as  you  seem  to  be  disappointed,  I  will  make 
you  an  offer  for  them,  cash  down,  all  ha'rd  gold.'     So  I  gave  them 
a  bid  at  a  very  low  figure,  say  half  nothing,  'and,'  sais  I,  'I  advise 
you  not  to  take  it,  they  are  worth  much  more,  if  a  man  only  knows 
what  to  do  with  them.     Some  of  your  traders,  I  make  no  manner 
ot  doubt,  will  give  you  twice  as  much  if  you  will  only  take  your 
pay  in  goods,  at  four  times  their  value,  and  perhaps  they  mightent 
like  your  selling  them  to  a  stranger,  for  they  are  all  responsible 
government-men,  and  act  accordin'  '  to  the  well  understood  wish«^s 
of  the  people.'     I  shall  sail  in  two  hours,  and  you  can  let  me  know  • 
but  mind,  I  can  only  buy  all  or  none,  for  I  shall  have  to  hire  a 
vessel  to  carry  them.     After  all,'  sais  J,  '  perhaps  we  had  better  not 
trade,  for,   taking  out  a  handfal  of  sovereigns  from  my  pocket,  and 
juigling  them,  *  there  is  no  two  ways  about  it ;  these  little  fellows 
are  easier  to  carry  by  a  long  chalk  than  them  great  lummokin' 
nacknietacks.     Good  bye,  genilemm.' 

Well,  one  of  the  critters,"  who  was  as  awkwaid  as  a  wrong 
boot,  soon  calls  out,  « whough,'  to  me,  so  I  turns  and  sais  '  well 
'old  hoss,"  what  do  you  want?'     At  which  they  laufrhed  louder 
than  before. 

"  Sais  he,  « we  have  concluded  to  take  your  offer.' 

Well,'  sais  I,  '  there  is  no  back  out  in  me,  here  is  your  money 
the  knees  is  mine.'     So  I  shipped  them,  and  had  the  satisfaction  to 
oblige  them,  and  put  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  in  my  pocket 
J  here  are  three  things.  Squire,  1  like  in  a  spekelation  :  -First      A 
fair  shake.     Second.     A  fai-  profit ;  and  Third,  a  fair  share  of 

f(Ml. 

In  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  he  said,  "Squire,  I  have  brought 
you  my  journal,  for  I  thought  when  I  was  a  startin'  off,  as  there 
were  some  thmgs  1  should  like  to  point  out  to  my  old  friend  it 
would  be  as  well  to  deliver  it  myself  and  mention  them,  for  what 
in  natur  is  the  good  of  letter  writing  ?     In  business  there  is  nothinc 


like  a  good  talk   face 
assume  to  be  — I  am 


to    ft 


race. 


TV 


y  r\\tr 


ini 


mix 


■cany 


\\lillh    1 


.  ^n  fiict,  Sam   Slick   the  Clockmaker,  and 
nobody  else.     It  is   of  no  consequence,  however,  to  the  world 


A    BUBPBISB, 


17 


more  than 
hiiig  in  the 
it,  for  it  is 
tupid  joite 
I  but  some- 
u  are  mad 
re  as  big  a 

ne, 

)  shocking 
^  can't  be 
will  make 
gave  therp. 
,  'I  advise 
n\y  knows 
10  manner 
take  your 

mightent 
ssponsible 
od  wishes 
ne  know ; 

to  hire  a 
better  not 
3cket,  and 
le  fellows 
immokin' 


whether  this  is  really  my  name  or  an  assumed  one.  If  ^t  is  the 
first,  It  IS  a  matter  of  some  importance  to  take  care  of  it  and 
defend  It;  if  it  is  a  f:otitious  one,  it  is  equally  so  to  presei-ve  mv 
incognito,  I  may  not  choose  to  give  my  card,  and  may  not  desire 
to  be  known.  A  satirist,  like  an  Irishman,  finds  it  convenient  some- 
times  to  shoot  from  behind  a  shelter.  Like  him,  too,  he  may  occa- 
sionally  miss  his  shot,  and  firing  with  intent  to  do  bodily  harm  is 
almost  as  badly  punished  as  if  death  had  ensued.  And  besides  an 
anonymous  book  has  a  mysl  .y  about  it.  Moreover,  what  more 
right  has  a  man  to  say  to  you,  '  stand  and  deliver  your  name  '  than 
to  say,  'stand  and  fork  out  your  purse' -I  can't  see  the  difference 
for  the  life  of  me.  Hesitation  betrays  guilt.  If  a  person  inquires 
It  you  are  to  home,  the  servant  is  directed  to  say,  no,  if  you  don't 
want  to  be  seen,  and  choose  to  be  among  the  missing  Well  if  a 
leller  asks  if  I  am  the  Mr.  Slick,  I  have  just  as  good  a  right  tJ  say. 
'  ask  about  and  find  out.'  ^  ^* 

"  People  sometimes,  I  jfctilly  believe,  take  you  for  me.     If  they 
do,  all  1  have  to  say  is,  they  are  fools  not  to  know  better,  for  we 
ne;.ner  act  alike,  talk  alike,  nor  look  alike,  though  perhaps  we  may 
think  alike  on  some  subjects.     You  was  bred  and  born  here  in 
ISo^a  bcotia,  and  not  in  Connecticut,  and  if  they  ask  you  where  I 
was  raised,  tell  them  I  warn't  raised  at  all,  but  was  fomid  one  fine 
morning  pinned  across  a  clothes-line,  after  a  heavy  washing  to  home 
Jt  IS  easy  to  distinguish  an  editor  from  the  author,  if  a  reader  has 
half  an  eye,  and  it  he  haint  got  that,  it's  no  use  to  offer  him  spec- 
tac  es    iiat  s  a  fact.     Now,  by  trade  I  am  a  clockmaker,  and  by 
birth  1  have  the  honor  to  be  a  Yankee.     I  use  the  word  honor 
oquire,  a  purpose,  because  I  know  what  I  am  talking  about,  which. 
1  am  sorry  to  say,  is  not  quite  so  common  a  thing  in  the  world  as 
people  suppose      The  English  call  all  us  Americlns,  Yankees,  ba- 

«wr«  ^?.  -T-^  "7  Z^^^  ^''y  ^^"^  ^^^'^^"g  ^^°"t,  and  are  not 
awaie  that  it  is  only  the  inhabitants  of  New  England,  who  can 
boast  of  that  appellation.* 

rL^rT^^  Jonathan  is  the  general  terra  ibr  all.  It  originated  thus.  When 
Genera    Washington,  after  being  appointed  commander  of  the  army  of  the 

f^rtt  uSTfTeTr ''.  M^-f -?««  t«  -g-ize  it.  and  make  p™/ara  ioSS 
lor  the  uetence  of  the  country,  he  found  a  great  want  of  ammunition  and  other 
means  necessary  to  meet  the  powerful  foe  he  had  to  contend  wi"h  and  great  dff 
betC'e'       On''""-     ''  ?"*^^^1  ^"  «"^'^  °«"dition,  the  cause  at  on'ce  might 

cers  and  otT.er^  w."^  TT""  ■'  '''"*  "?^'°"«  P^""-^'  ^  consultation  of  the  offi- 
cers  and  others  was  had,  when  it  seemed  no  way  could  be  devised  to  make  such 
preparations  as  was  necessary.     His  Excellency  Jonathan  Trumbull,   he  eller 

n:LX--?A'  ----?- -^'t ''  C-"-'-'^^  -  -hose  judgmenttnd  aid  te 
-----  {•• •.  -n-.  gicatc3ir;iiancc,  and  remarked,  '=  VVe  must  consult  '  MrnHm* 

uTif  slnf -nSr 'J'^'V;.  ^''^  ""'V^'  '''  -'  '^"d  the  Governor  was  su "ce  ! 
tul  in  suppl ,  .ng  many  of  the  wants  of  the  army.  When  difficulties  arose  ami 
the  army  was  spread  over  the  country,  it  becam^e  a  by  wSr  J  "  We  must  conJuU 


*i 


p 


18 


A    8UBPRI8E. 


|M 


if 


I 


If!! 


"The  southerners,  M'ho  are  both  a^j  nr.    q  ov.4  - 
British,  call  us  EusWn  folk   Y*ko  s,^    "1  term  ofZmach" 

because  having  no  slaves  we  are  nhMcr^rl  L  k  'eproach, 

aVLss  them^^^^^^^^^       '  ^  ''"  J""  ^"^'^  "^^^  ^^^  ^^^^^^  ^"tSn, 

"With  this  national  and  nateral  infirmity,  therefore  is  it  to  b^ 

wondered  at,  if,  as  my  'Sayings  and  DoingV  have  become  Ire 

popular  than  you  or  I  ever  exnected  thm  T  ^hr.!!vi      "^c<^™e  "i«re 

try  men  as  well  as  the  English,  for  we  expect  every  L^eLan  abroad 

to  sustain  the  reputation  in  himself  of  our  greaf  matLn        '^^'"'^^ 

Now  Ingersoll,  our  Mmister  to  Victoria'!  Court,  when  he  made 

ylr&^ntl^^^^^^^  ^"--  atGloteiSr  las 

year^  didn  t  intend  that  f  .r  the  British,  but  for  us.     So  in  Con-ress 

no  man  m  eitner  house  can  speak  or  read  an  oration  more  tHn  an 

aia>i  tsay,  to  the  papers.     One  has  to  brag  before  foreign  assem 
blies,  the  other  before  a  Congress,  but  bothliave  an  eye  to  the  fed 

c'ulaf  XwTat  i^Vt  '^r^r^  f'^"'  ^^^  constituents  i^  pat 
iicuiar.      \ow  that  is  a  tnck  others  know  as  well  as  we  do.     The 


A     SURPRISE. 


19 


iarcy  as  the 
f  reproach, 
wn  niggers, 
tee],  and  us 
•e  too  6ften 
not  like  us 
,  are  apt  to 

are  talking 
s  they  be, 
believe  it, 
he  appella- 
)eat,  there- 
to say  that 
-r  from  it, 
tcking  and 
1  to  me  as 
yself  agin 
shoulders 
their  way 
to  respect 
m  upright 
;h  Briton, 

3  it  to  be 
)me  niore 
ind  boast 
go  ahead 
ause  you 
'r  because 
m  at,  and 
iwn  coun- 
m  abroad 

he  made 
!ster  last 
Congress 
}  than  an 
'  what  he 
1  assem- 

the  feel- 
3  in  par- 
io.     The 


Irish  member  from  Kumany,and  him  from  Kilmore,  when  he  braes 
there  never  was  a  murder  in  either,  don't  expect  the  English  to 
believe  it,  for  he  is  availed  they  know  better,  but  the  brag  pleases 
the  patriots  to  home,  on  account  of  its  impudence. 

"  So  the  little  man,  Lord  Bunkum,  when  he  opens  Oxford  to  Jew 
and  Crentile,  and  offers  to  make  Rothschl'i  Chancellor  instead  of 
Lord  Derby,  and  tells  them  old  dons,  the  heads  of  colleges  as  po. 
lite  as  a  stage-driver,  that  he  does  it  out  of  pure  regard  to  them 
and  only  to  improyo  the  University,  don't  expect  them  to  believe 
It ;  for  he  gives  them  a  sly  wink  when  he  says  so,  as  much  as  to 
say,  how  are  you  off  for  Hebrew,  my  old  septuagenarians  ?  Droll 
boy  is  Kothey,  for  though  he  comes  from  the  land  of  Ham,  he  don't 
eat^or^.  But  it  pleases  the  sarcumsised  Jew,  and  the  unsarcum- 
sised  tag-rag  and  bobtail  that  are  to  be  admitted,  and  who  verily 
do  believe  (for  their  Dump  of  conceit  is  largely  develo-^.d)  that 
ticketf ""  '"'^'"''''''  ^^^^^^'  ^^  granting  educational  excursion 

"So  Paddy  O'Shonnosey,  the  member  for  Blarney,  when  he 
votes  for  smashing  in  the  porter's  lodges  of  that  Protestant  insti- 
tution,  and  talks  of  Toleration  and  Equal  Rights,  and  calU  the 
Du..e  of  Tuscany  a  broth  of  a  boy,  and  a  li,.ht  to  illumine  hereti- 
cal  darkness,  don't  talk  this  nonsense  to  please  the  outs  and  ins 
for  he  don  t  care  a  snap  of  his  finger  for  either  of  them,  nor  becauro 
he  thinks  It  right,  for  it's  plain  he  don't,  seeing  that  he  would  fight 
till  he  d  run  away  before  Maynooth  should  be  sarv.d  arter  that 
fashion;  but  ne  does  it,  because  he  knows  it  will  plea^se  him,  or 
them,  that  sent  him  there.  ' 

Thpf!'^'^  T/'"""  kJ»Js.ofboastin,' Squire,  active  and  passive, 
fn  thl  R™?  ^^^^"g'V^^f  "''"'^^^^  "^y  c-antrymen,  and  the  latter 
to  the  British.     A  fankee  openly  asserts  and  loudly  proclaims  his 
superiority.     John  Bull  feels  and  looks  it.     He  don't  giveTtter! 
ance  to  this  conviction.     He  takes  it  for  granted  all  the  world 
knows  and  admits  it,  and  he  is  so  thonoughly  persuaded  of  it  him- 
self  that,  to  use  his  own  favorite  phrase,  he  don't  care  a  fiff  if  folks 
don't  admit  it.     His  vanity,  iherie,  has  a  sublimity  in  i       He 
thinks  as  the  ItaLins  say,  '  that  when  nature  formed  him,  she 
broke  the  mould.-     There  never  was,  never  can,  and  never  ^l  be 
another  like  him.     His  boastin',  therefore,  is  passive.     He  shows 
.fc  and  acts  It;  but  he  don't  proclaim  it.     He  condescends  andls 
gracious,  patronizes  and  talks  down  to  you.     Let  my  boastin'  alone 
herefore.  Squire,  if  you  please.     You  know  what  it  means  wha 
bottom  It  has,  and  whether  the  plastei  sticks  on  the  rTgbt  spot  or 

'"So  thei'e  is  the  first  division  of  my  subject      Now  for  the 

r^,'-  .  ^"^  ^f'  f  f »'  '■"■'■-^•='  -rvousTk  :     U™  ,f:   Ik 
the  black  preacher  that  had  forty-eleven  di.isicns.     I  have  only  « 


m. 


20 


A    8URFBISS. 


Mi 


«! 


i;! 


few  more  remarks  to  make.  Well,  I  have  observed  that  in  editin 
my  last  journal,  you  struck  out  some  scores  I  made  under  certain 
passages  and  maxims,  because  you  thought  they  were  not  needed 
or  looked  vain.  I  know  it  looks  consaited  as  well  as  you  do,  but 
i  know  their  use  also.  I  have  my  own  views  of  things.  Let  them 
also  be  as  I  have  made  them.  They  warn't  put  there  for  nothln'. 
I  have  a  case  in  pint  that  runs  on  all  fours  with  it,  as  brother  J  osi&h 
the  lawyer  used  to  say,  and  if  there  was  anythin'  wantin'  to  prove 
that  lawyers  were  not  strait  up  and  down  in  their  dealings,  that 
expression  would  shew  it. 

"I  waps  to  court  wunst  to  Slickville,  when  he  was  addressin'  of 
the  jury.  The  main  points  of  his  argument  he  went  over  and  over 
again  tUl  I  got  so  tired  I  took  up  my  hat  and  walked  out.  Sais  I 
to  him,  arter  court  was  piorogued  and  members  gone  home. 

" '  Sy,'  sais  I,  '  why  on  airth  did  you  repeat  them  arguments  so 
often  {    It  was  everlastin'  yarny.' 

"  'Sarn,'  says  he,  and  he  gave  his  head  a  jupe,  and  pressed  his 
lips  close,  like  a  lemon-squeezer,  the  way  lawyers  always  do  when 
they  want  to  look  wise,  '  when  I  can't  drive  a  nail  with  one  blow,  1 
hammer  away  till  I  do  git  it  in.  Some  folks'  heads  is  as  hard  as 
hackmetacks — you  have  to  bore  a  hole  in  it  first,  to  put  the  nail  in 
to  keep  it  from  bendin',  and  then  it  is  as  much  as  a  bargain,  if  you 
can  send  it  home  and  clinch  it.' 

"  Now  maxims  and  saws  are  the  sumtotalisation  of  a  thing. 
Folks  won't  always  add  up  the  columns  to  see  if  they  are  footed 
right,  but  show  'em  the  amount  and  result,  and  that  they  are  able 
to  remember,  and  carry  away  with  them.  No — no,  put  them 
Italics  in,  as  I  have  always  done.  They  shew  there  is  truth  at  the 
bottom.  I  like  it,  for  it's  what  I  call  sense  on  the  short-cards— do 
you  take  ?  Recollect  always,  you  are  not  Sam  Slick,  and  I  am  not 
you.  The  greatest  compliment  a  Britisher  would  think  he  could 
pay  you,  would  be  to  say,  '  I  should  have  taken  you  for  an  English- 
man.' Now  the  greatest  compliment  he  can  pay  me  is  to  take  me 
for  a  Connecticut  Clockmaker,  who  hoed  his  way  up  to  the  Embassy 
to  London,  and  preserved  so  much  of  his  nationality,  after  being 
so  long  among  foreigners.  Let  the  Italics  be^-you  aint  answera- 
ble  for  them,  nor  my  boastin'  neither.  When  y^ii  write  a  book  of 
your  own,  leave  out  both,  if  you  like,  but  as  you  only  edit  my 
Journal,  if  you  leave  them  out,  just  go  one  step  further,  and  leave 
out  Sam  Slick  also. 

"  There  is  another  thing.  Squire,  upon  which  I  must  make  a 
remark,  if  you  will  bear  with  me.  In  my  last  work  you  made  me 
speak  purer  English  than  you  found  in  my  Journal,  and  altered  my 
phraseolofiTVi  or  rathe  mv  dialect.     Now  m^'  dear  Nip'^cnt— " 

"  Nippent !"  said  I,  '=  what  is  that  ?" 

"  The  most  endearing  word  in  the  Indian  language  for  friend," 


A    8URPS6I8E. 


tt  in  editin 
der  certain 
lOt  needed, 
'^ou  do,  but 
Let  them 
for  nothin'. 
ther  J  osicii 
i'  to  prove 
ilings,  that 

dressin'  of 
r  and  over 
It.     Sais  I 
Dme. 
[uments  so 

•ressed  his 
s  do  when 
me  blow,  I 
as  hard  as 
the  nail  in 


SI 


ain,  if 


you 


3f  a  thing, 
are  footed 
y  are  able 
put  them 
uth  at  the 
cards — do 
1  I  am  not 
:  he  could 
n  English- 
o  take  me 
:  Embassy 
fter  being 
;  answera- 
a  book  of 
y  edit  my 
and  leave 

it  make  a 

made  me 

iltered  my 


ke  said,  "only  it's  more  comprehensive,  including  ally  foster- 
brother  life-preserver,  shaft-horse,  and  everything  that  has  a  humai? 
tie  m  it." 

"  Ah,  Slick,"  I  said,  "  how  skilled  you  are  in  soft  sawder  '  You 
laid  that  trap  for  me  on  purpose,  so  that  I  might  ask  the  question, 
to  enable  you  to  throw  the  lavender  to  me." 

"  Dod  drot  that  «^ord  soft  sawder,"  said  he,  "  I  wish  I  had  never 
invented  it.     I  can't  say  a  civil  thing  to  anybody  now,  but  he  looks 
arch,  as  if  he  had  found  a  mare's  nest,  and  says,  '  Ah,  Slick '  nors 
of  your  soft  sawder  nov^'     But,  my  dear  niopent,  by  that  means 
you  destroy  my  individuality.     I  cease  to  be\he  genuine  itinerant 
Yankee  Uockmaker,  and  merge  into  a  very  bad  imitation.     You 
know  I  am  a  natural  character,  and  always  was,  and  act  and  talk 
naturally,  and  as  far  as  I  can  judge,  the  little  alteration  my  sojourn 
in  London  with  the  American  embassy  has  made  in  my  pronuncia- 
tion  and  provincialism,  is  by  no  means  an  improvement   to  my 
J  ournal.     The  moment  you  take  away  my  native  dialect,  I  become 
tne  representative  of  another  class,  and  cease  to  be  your  old  friend 
'  ^^'?  ^^'^^^'  *^^  Clockmaker.'     Bear  with  me  this  once.  Squire* 
and  don  t  tear  your  shirt,  I  beseech  you,  for  in  all   probability  it 
will  be  the  last  tin.e  it  will  be  in  your  power  to  subject  me  to  the 
ordeal  of  criticism,  and  I  should  like,  I  confess,  to  reraam  true  to 
myself,  and  to  Nature  to  the  last. 

"  On  the  other  hand.  Squire,  you  will  find  passages  in  this  Jour- 
nal, that  have  neither  Yankee  words,  nor  Yankee  bra<r  in  them 
Now  pray  don't  go  as  you  did  in  the  last,  and  alter  them  by  insari 
ten  here  and  there  what  you  call  '  Amsricanisms,'  so  as  to  make  it 
more  in  character,  and  uniform  ;  that  is  going  to  t'other  extreme 
tor  I  ^n  write  as  pure  English,  if  1  can't  speak  it,  as  anybody  can.* 
My  education  warnt  a  college  one,  like  my  brothers,  Eldad's  and 
Josiahs^^the  doctor  and  lawyer;  but  it  was  not  neglected  for  all 
that.     Dear  old  Minister  was  a  scholar,  every  inch  of  him,  and* 
took  great  pains  with  me  in  my  themes,  letters  and  composition, 
bam,  he  used  to  t,ay,  '  there  are  four  things  needed  to  write  well  • 
first,  master  the  language  grammatically  ;  second,  master  your  subi 
ject ;  third,  write  naturally ;  fourth,  let  your  heart  as  well  as  your 
hand  guide  the  pen.     It  aint  out  of  keeping,  therefore,  for  me  to 
express  myself  decently  in  composition  if  I  choose.     It  warnt  out 

^  *  The  reader  will  perceive  from  a  perusal  of  this  Journa!,  that  Mr.  Slick  who 
18  always  so  ready  to  detect  absurdity  in  others,  has  in  this  instance  exhibited  a 
species  ot  vanity  by  no  means  uncommon  in  this  world.  He  prides  himself 
more  on  composition  to  which  he  has  but  small  pretensions,  than  or.  those  things 
!Qr  v.'„ic„  the  yuoac  ia  vvillmg  enough  to  give  him  full  credit.  Had  he,  how- 
ever, received  a  classical  education,  it  may  well  be  doubted  whether  he  would 
have  been  as  useful  or  succedsful  a  man  as  President  of  Yaie  CoUeee.  as  heha» 
been  as  an  itinerant  practical  Clockmaker. 


S9 


A    8UEPRISK 


TOf- 


m 


I 


of  character  with  Franklin,  and  he  was  a  ppor  pointer  boy,  nor 
Washington,  and  he  was  only  a  land-surveyor,  and  they  growed  to 
be  '  some  punkins'  too.  "^  ^ 

"An  American  clockmaker  aint  like  a  European  one.  He'may 
not  be  as  good  a  workman  as  t'other  one,  but  he  can  do  somethin' 
else  besides  nmkin'  wheels  and  pulleys.  One  alwayslooks  forward 
to  rise  m  the  world,  the  other  to  attain  excellence  in  his  line  I 
am,  as  I  have  expressed  it  in  some  part  of  this  Journal,  not 
ashamed  of  having  been  a  tradesman— I  glory  in  it:  but  J  should 
indeed  have  been  ashamed,  if,  with  the  instruction  I  received  from 
dear  old  Minister,  I  had  always  remained  one.  No,  don't  alter  mv 
Journal.  I  am  just  what  1  am,  and  nothing  more  or  less  You 
can  t  measure  me  by  English  standards  ;  you  must  take  an  Ameri- 
can one,  and  that  will  give  you  my  length,  breadth,  height  and 
weight.to  a  hair.  If  silly  people  take  you  for  me,  and  put  my 
braggm  on  your  shoulders,  why  jist  say,  '  You  might  be  mistakened 
for  a  worse  fellow  than  he  is,,  that's  all'  Yes,  yes,  let  my  talk 
remain  'down-east  talk,'*  and  my  writin'  remain  clear  of  cant 
terms  when  you  find  it  so. 

"  I  like  Yankee  words— 1  learned  them  when  young.  Fkther 
and  mother  used  them,  and  so  did  all  the  old  folks  to  Slickville 
Ihere  IS  both  fun,  sense  and  expression  in  'em  too,  and  that  is  more 
than  there  is  m  Taffy's,  Pat's,  or  Sawney's  brogue  either.  The  one 
enriches  and  enlarges  the  vocabulary,  the  other  is  nothing  but 
broken  Jinglish,  and  so  confoundedly  broken  too,  you  can't  put  the 
pieces  together  sometimes.  Again,  my  writing,  when  I  freeze 
down  solid  to  it,  is  just  as  much  in  character  as  the  other 
KecoiJect  this.     Every  woman  in  our  country  who  has  a  son,  knows 

TT  .  ^^o"'"''^'  "^"'^  ^^'^^^  ^^^^  ^^  w>"'  become  President  of  the 
Umted  btates,  and  that  thought  and  that  chance  make  that  bov 
superior  to  any  of  his  class  in  Europe.  ^ 

"And  now.  Squire,"  said  he,  »  I  believe  there  has  been  enou<rh 
said  about  myself  and  my  Journal.  Sposen  we  drink  success  to 
the  human  nature,'  or  'men  and  things,'  or  whatever  other  name 
you  select  for  this  Journal,  and  then  we  will  talk  of  son,ething 

"  1  will  drink  that  toast,"  I  said,  "  with  all  my  heart,  and  now  let 
me  ask  you  how  you  have  succeeded  in  your  mission  about  the 
nsneries  V 

*  It  must  not  be  inferred  from  this  expression  that  Mr.  Slick's  talk  is  all 
JZl  '^°^"-«f  t  d^.^'^'^t."  The  intermixture  of  Americans  is  now  o  great,  in 
consequence  of  their  steamers  and  railroads,  that  there  is  but  little  pure  nrS 
E  r  'f  ■  .'^^7  t-\borrowed  from  each  other  in  difieren  "  tFons  m^oS 
hberally,  and  not  only  has  the  vocabulary  of  the  south  anH  w.«f  .«n^.;K„.„!r;r: 

Jupn^nTT.,^''!^'''^^"^'^"^'^"*  *^"'«  '«  recently'an'afiecVatTonrin'ccnse: 
E  wJ„?r^r-'"?T,^*''i''  rl^'^'^l^  Spanish  words,  some  of  which  Mr. 
bhck,  who  dehghts  m  tka  sort  of  thing,  has  introduced  into  this  Journal  -Ep 


A    8UBPRISB. 


28 


nt--ri1\iifA'1     i*m 


nf 'i.^r/'  ^'  '^'''p"^  ^^"^^  discovered  the  dodge,  and  we  shall  avail 
pLl  r'-  ^^  ^  '""'"'  ^"^'  '^^'  forefgners  can  hold  le^ 
estate  in  this  province  now.  And  by  a  >-ecent  Act  rf  ParHamen 
our  vessels  can  obtain  British  registers.  Between  the  e  two 
privilege.,  a  man  don't  deserve  to  be  called  a^AmeriLn  who 
can't  carry  on  the  fisheries  in  spite  of  all  the  cruisTrs  TevenSe 
officers,  and  prohibitary  laws  under  the  sun.  Jt  is  a  peaLblland 
quiet  way  of  getting  possession,  and  far  better  than  Tghtin /for 

gain  r^''  '"  ^''"  *^^"^'"  ^  ^"^^'  "^^'  '^'  Elgin  treaty  as  a  bar. 
After  some  hesitation  he  looked  up  and  smiled. 

from  the  British  armv  taken  off  of  the  wreck  of  fhp  'L«  T? 
treaty-  but'' tell  vn^^^'T'  '  ''"'"'''  ^'  '^''"^"'^  ^ith  the 

a  Billingsgate  contractor  who  i-n  ii  -l  '''  *°"'''  "^"^ 

ol,«„fC.i,''_:__  ™"^'"^'<"^'  ™?  "  "  Pl-lguy  sight  more  nostra  „„ 

(not  a'part';:;;';;'' "7  T"T  "^  P'"-"''r»''  «■•  »  clevcr  coIomsC 


I 


I 


:4 


U 


A     SURPRISE 


pro  (/MO,  as  Josiah  says,  ♦o  be  given,  afore  we  got  the  fisheries,  if 
we  ever  got  them  at  all.  '  So,'  sals  I,  out  of  a  bit  of  fun,  for  I 
can't  help  taken  a  rise  out  of  folks  no  how  I  .'an  fix  it,  *send  us  a 
lorrl.  We  are  mighty  fond  of  noblomen  to  Washin^^ton,  and 
toady  them  firsc-rare.  It  will  please  such  a  man  as  Pi*?rce  to  s!how 
him  so  much  respect  as  to  send  a  peer  to  him.  He  will  get  what- 
ever he  asks.' 

"Well,  they  fell  into  the  trap  beautiful.  They  sent  us  one,  and 
we  rowed  him  up  to  the  very  head-waters*  of  Salt  Kiver  in  no 
time.*  But  I  am  sorry  we  asked  the  privilege  to  land  and  cure 
fish.  I  didn't  think  any  created  critter  wouJd  have  granted  that. 
Yes,  I  foresee  trouble  arising  out  of  this.  Suppose  '  Cayenne 
Pepper,'  as  we  call  the  captain  that  commanded  the  'Cayenne'  at 
Grey  Town,  was  to  come  to  a  port  in  Nova  So-otia,  and  pepper  it 
for  insultin'  our  flag  by  apprehenden  trespass^-rs  (though  how  a 
constable  is  to  arrest  a  crew  of  twenty  men,  urhss,  Irishman-like, 
he  surrounds  them,  is  a  mystery  to  me).  Wha*  would  be  done  in 
that  case  1  Neither  you  nor  I  can  tell,  Squire.  But  depend  upon 
it,  there  is  a  tempestical  time  comin',  and  it  is  as  well  to  be  on 
the  safe  side  of  the  fence  w^hen  there  is  a  chance  of  kicking  going  on. 

"  The  bombardment  of  Grey  Town  was  the  greatest  and  bravest 
exploit  of  modern  times.  We  silenced  their  guns  at  the  first 
broo  "side,  and  shut  them  up  so  sudden  that  envious  folks,  like  the 
British,  now  swear  they  had  none,  while  we  lost  only  one  man  in 
the  engagement,  but  he  was  drunk  nnd  fell  overboard.  What  is  the 
cannonade  of  Sebastopool  to  that  ?   VV  hy  it  sinks  into  insignificance." 

He  had  hardly  ceased  speaking,  when  the  wheels  of  a  carriage 
were  heard  rapidly  approaching  the  door.  Taking  out  his  watch, 
and  observing  the  hour,  he  said  :  ''  Squire,  it  is  now  eleven  o'clock. 
I  must  be  a  movin'.  Good-bye  !  I  am  oft'  to  Halifax.  I  am 
goin'  to  make  a  night  flight  of  it.  The  wind  is  fair,  and  1  must 
sail  by  daylight  to-morrow  morning      Farewell !" 

He  then  shook  hands  most  cord",  ily  with  mo,  and  said ;  "Squire, 
unless  you  feel  inclined  at  some  future  day  to  make  the  tour  of  the 
States  with  me,  or  somethin'  turns  up,  1  am  not  availed  of,  I  am 
afraid  you  have  seen  the  last  iournal  of  your  old  friend,  '  Sam  Slick.'  " 


>  »i 


*  To  row  up  Salt  River  is  a  common  piirase,  used  generally  to  denote  politi 
cal  defeat.  The  distance  to  which  a  party  is  rowed  up  Salt  River,  depend* 
entirely  upon  the  magnitude  of  the  majority  against  him.  If  the  defeat  ii 
overwhelming,  the  up^viccchsful  party  '.3  said  "  to  be  rowed  up  to  the  very  head- 
waters of  Salt  River."  The  phrase  has  its  origin  in  the  fact  that  there  ia  a 
small  stream  of  that  name  in  Kentucky,  the  passag.J  of  which  is  made  difficult 
and  laborious,  as  well  by  its  tortuous  course  as  by  numerous  shallows  and  bar«. 
The  real  application  of  the  phrase  is  to  the  unhappy  wight  who  propels  the 
boat,  hut  politically,  in  slang  usage,  it  means  the  man  rowed  up,  the  passenger. 
—I.  Inman. 


CLIPPERS    AWD    8TSAMER8, 


fiS 


CHAPTER  II. 

CLIPPERS   AND    STEAMERS. 

Whoever  has  taken  the  trouble  to  read  the  "Wise  Saws"  of 
Mr.  Slick,  will  be  prepared  to  resume  the  thread  of  his  narrative 
without  explanation,  if,  indeed,  these  unconnected  selections  deserve 
the  appelJation.     But  as  this  work  may  full  into  the  hands  of  many 
people,  who  never  saw  its  predecessor,  it  may  be  necessary  to 
premise  that  our  old  friend  Sam,  having  received  a  commission 
from  the  President  of  the  United  States  to  visit  the  coast  of  Nov 
Scotia,  and  report  to  him  fully  on  the  state  of  the  fisheries,  their 
-extent  and  value,  the  manner  in  which  they  were  prosecuted,  and 
he  best  mode  of  obtaining  a  participation  in  them,  he  proceeded 
rn  his  cruise  in  a  trading-vessel,  called  the  •'  Black  Hawk,"  where- 
>f  Timothy  Cutler  was  master,  and  Mr.  Eldad   Nickerson  the 
pilot.     The  preceding  volume  contained  his  adventures  at  sea,  and 
m  the  harbors  of  the  province,  to  the  westward  of  Halifax.     The 
present  work  is  devoted  to  his  remarks  on  "  Nature  and  Human 
Nature." 

While  amusing  himself  fishing  within  three  miles  of  the  coast, 
oft  La  Haive,  m  contravention  of  the  treaty,  he  narrowly  escaped 
capture  by   the  British  cruizer   "Spitfire,"  commanded  by  Cap. 
tain  Stoker.     By  a  skilful  mancEuvre,  he  decoyed  the  man-of-war 
m  the  eagerness  of  the  chase,  on  to  a  sand-bar,  when  he  dexterl 
ously  shpt  through  a  narrow  passage  between  two  islands,  and 
keeping  one  of  them  in  a  line  between  the  "Black  Hawk"  and  her 
pursuer,  so  as  to  be  out  of  the  reach  of  her  guns,  he  steered  for  the 
eastern  shore  of  Nova  Scotia,  and  was  soon  out  of  sight  of  the  Isl- 
ands  behuid  which  his  enemy  lay  embedded  in  the  sand ;  from 
this  point  the  narrative  is  resumed  in  Mr.  Slick's  own  words  * 

"I  guess."  said  I,  "  Captain,  the  '  Spitfire '  will  have  to  puc  into 
^laiifax  to  report  herself,  and  be  surveyed,  so  we  may  pursue  our 
course  m  peace.  But  this  'Black  Hawk'  is  a  doll,  ain't  she? 
con  t  she  skim  over  the  water  like  a  sea  gull  ?  The  truth  is,'  Cut- 
ler when  you  amt  in  a  hurry,  and  want  to  enjoy  yourself  at  sea. 
as  1  always  do,  for  I  am  a  grand  sailor,  give  me  a  clipper.  She  is 
so  light  and  buoyant,  and  the  motion  so  elastic,  it  actilly  exilerates 
your  spirits.     There  is  something  like  life  in  her  gait,  and  you 

'  thelr^ift Jri^f*  h"''  *^k'  ^'^!"''  ^  faa^«  wholly  omitted,  for  they  have  now  lost 
I  «^'ni         i    "''  observations  on  "  Nature  and  Human  Nature"  are  alon. 
retained,  as  they  may  be  said  to  have  a  universal  application— Ed. 


F*//'"" 


m 


OLIPPBRB     A.ND    8TBAUEB8. 


Ittlill 


* 


liava  her  in  hand  like  a  horse,  and  yon  feci  as  if  you  were  her  mas. 
ter,  and  directed  her  movements.  I  ain't  sure  you  don't  seem  oa 
if  you  were  part  of  her  yourself.  Then  there  is  room  to  show 
skill  and  seamanship,  and  if  you  don't  in  reality  go  as  quick  as  a 
steamsr,  you  sefem  to  go  faster,  if  there  is  no  visible  object  to  mea- 
sure your  speed  by,  and  that  is  something,  for  the  white  foam  on 
the  leeward  side  rushes  by  you  in  rips,  raps,  and  rainbows,  like 
Canadian  rapids. 

"  Then  if  she  is  an  atrysilly  *  like  this,  and  she  is  doing  her  pret- 
tiest, and  actilly  laughs  again,  she  is  30  pleased,  why  you  are  sat- 
isfied, for  you  don't  make  the  breeze,  you  take  it  as  you  find  it, 
like  all  other  good  gifts  of  Providence,  and  say,  '  ain't  she  going 
like  wink,  how  she  forges  ahead,  don't  she "? '  Your  attention  is 
kept  alive,  too,  watchin'  the  wind,  and  trimmin'  sail  to  it  accord- 
ingly, and  the  jolly  '  Oh,  heave  oh,'  of  the  sailors  is  music  one 
loves  to  listen  to,  and  if  you  wish  to  take  a  stretch  for  it  in  your 
cloak  on  deck,  on  the  sunny  or  shady  side  of  the  companion-way, 
the  breeze  whistles  a  nice  soft  lullaby  for  you,  and  you  are  off  In 
the  land  of  Nod  in  no  time." 

"  Dreaming  of  Sophy  Collingwood,"  sais  the  Captain,  '"  and  the 
witch  of  Eskisooney,  eh  1 " 

"  Yes,  dreamin'  of  bright  eyes  and  smilin'  faces,  or  any  thin' 
else  that's  near  and  dear,  for  to  my  idea,  the  heart  gives  the  sub 
ject  for  the  head  to  think  upon.  In  a  fair  wind,  and  a  charmin' 
day  like  this,  I  never  co'^ed  up  on  the  deck  for  a  nap  in  my  life, 
that  I  hadn't  pleasant  dreams.  You  feel  as  if  you  we^e  at  peace 
with  all  the  world  in  general,  and  yourself  in  partikeler,  and  that 
it  is  very  polite  of  folks  to  stay  to  home  ashore,  and  let  you  and 
yonr  friends  enjoy  yourselves  without  treadin'  on  your  toes,  and 
wakin'  of  you  up,  if  asleep,  or  a  jostlin'  of  you  in  your  turn  on 
the  quarter-deck,  or  overhearin'  your  conversation. 

"  And  ain't  you  always  ready  for  your  meals,  and  don't  you 
walk  into  them  in  rael  right  down  earnest?  Oh,  nothing  ever 
tastes  so  good  to  me  as  it  does  at  sea.  The  appetite,  like  a  sharp 
knife,  makes  the  m^at  seem  tender,  and  the  sea  air  is  a  great  friend 
of  digestion,  and  always  keeps  company  with  it.  Then  you  don't, 
care  to  sit  and  drink  after  dinner  as  you  do  at  an  hotel  of  an  idle 
day,  for  you  want  to  go  on  deck,  light  your  cigar,  take  a  sweep  round 
the  horizon  with  your  glass,  to  see  if  there  is  any  sail  in  sight, 
glance  at  the  sky  to  ascertain  if  the  breeze  is  likely  to  hold,  and 
then  bring  yourself  to  anchor  on  a  seat,  and  have  a  dish  of  chat  for 
a  dessert  with  the  Captain,  if  he  is  a  man  of  books  like  you,  Cut- 


■ 

li 

\l  I 

^^^H 

^■:'WmI  ; 

^^■i:il<' 

HH|:|| 

■/::' 

1 

i 

Hi. 

*  The  AtrlCillii,   Or  laughing  SCa-guil.      Its  note  icsCtumcs   a  COalSe  iSu^u 

Hence  its  name.     It  is  very  common  in  the  Bahamas. 


0LIPPEE8    AND     STEAHRRfl. 


27 


ler,  or  a  man  of  reefs,  rocks  and  sandbars,  fish,  cordwood  and 
*""."??"  '.^'"  collisions,  wracks  and  salvage,  like  the  pilot 

Ihen,  if  you  have  a  decent  sample  or  two  of  passengers  on 
board,  you  can  discuss  men  and  things,  women  and  nothings  law 
physick  and  divinity,  or  that  ^dless,  tangled  ball  of  yarn,  politicks' 
or  you  can  swap  anecdotes,  and  make  your  fortune  in  Ihe  trade 

these  Blue-Noses  now  and  then  a  cast  on  board  with  us  to  draw 
hem  out.     Well,  if  you  want  to  read,  you  can  go  and  turn  in  and 

lou'  %  aon'l'"?  ««^'?t"'««  ^}'-  «"d  there  is%o  one  to  dis'turb 
you.  I  actilly  learned  trench  hi  a  voyage  to  Calcutta,  and  Ger- 
man  on  my  way  home.  I  got  enough  for  common  use.  It  warn't 
all  pure  gold ;  but  it  was  kind  of  .small  change,  and  answered 
every  purpose  of  trade  or  travel.  Oh,  it's  no  use  i  talkin'  Adhere 
time  ain't  the  main  object,  there's  nothing'  like  a  sailin'  vesseT  to  a 
man  who  ain't  sea-sick,  and  such  fellows^ught  to  be  cloXmed 
put  to  bed,  and  left  there  till  the  voyage  is  over.     Therharno 

hrough  many  trials  and  difficulties,  and  their  trust  is  in  God  and 
heir  own  strong  arm.     They  are  so  n^  .ch  in  their  own  element 

and  like  Mother  Carey's  chickens,  delighted  in  its  stormr«nri 
mountam  waves.  The/walk,  talk,  anddrL  dUrtVflr  ant 
bodv  Jh?  t^^  ^'  ^^'y  P"'"  '"^^  ^^^'^^  «^  as  to  brace  the 

looe'anH  r^'^''',''''''''VP  "^  *^^  sometime;  their  gait  is 
ioo.e,  and  their  dress  loose,  and  their  limbs  loose;  indeed  thev  are 
rather  too  fond  of  slack.     They  climb  like  monkevs,  and  depend 

"own  %t"  ^'^l  ''"\^'";  ''^'-  '^^^y  tu-ble  up  but  fever 
thev  ;,,.?  ^  count,  not  by  fingers,  it  is  tedious,  but  by  hands ; 
they  put  a  part  for  the  whole,  and  call  themselves  hands  for  the^ 
are  paid  for  the  use  of  them,  and  not  their  heads.  '  ^ 

Tho.  5r^  ^^  ""'^  two-handed,  they  are  not  close-fisted  fellows 
They  despise  science,  but  are  fond  of  practical  knowledge.  wTen 
the  sun  IS  over  the  foreyard,  they  know  the  time  of  day  as  well 
as  the  captain,  and  call  for  their  grog,  and  when  they  lay  back  the  r 
heads,  and  turn  up  the  bottom  of  the  mug  to  the  sky  ^thev  oallil 
m  derision  taking  an  observation.  But  though  they  havl  minv 
characteristics  m  common,  there  is  an  individuality  inCch  thaTdi£ 

!"/'?^^  \'     S^  ^^^K  and  appreciates  his  importance.     Hr  Unn  Jo 
..  piurai      ine  word  'our'  belongs  to  landsmen;  'my '"is  theTaiU 
ase-my  ship,  my  captam,  my  messmate,  my  watch  on 
iy  eyes !    'you  lubber,  don't  you  know  that' « ;^.^ '    I  like 


or 


dedi. 


0-^IPPEES    AND    8TKAMKR8. 


m 


"      ;l 


il 


III 


Mi  H: 


to  listen  to  their  yarns,  and  their  jokes,  and  to  hear  them  sing  theb 
simple  ditties.  The  odd  mixture  of  manliness  and  childishness— 
of  boldness  and  siiperstitious  fears ;  of  preposterous  claims  for 
wages  and  thoughtless  extravagancfc:  of  obedience  and  discontent, 
all  goes  to  make  the  queer  compoimd  called  '  Jack.'  How  c^ten 
have  I  laughed  over  the  fun  of  the  forecastle  ir  these  small  fore  and 
aft  packets  of  ourn !  and  I  think  I  would  back  that  place  for  wit 
against  any  bar-room  in  J<ew  York  or  New  Orleans,  and  I  belif.  /e 
they  take  the  rag  off  of  all  creation. 

*'  But  the  cook  is  my  favorite.  He  is  a  scientific  man,  and  so 
skilful  in  compounds,  he  generally  goes  by  ihe  name  of  doctor. 
I  like  the  daily  consultation  with  him  abou*^^  linner,  not  that  I  am 
an  epicure ;  but  at  sea,  as  the  business  of  life  is  eating,  ic  is  as 
well  to  be  master  of  one's  calling.  Indeed,  it  appears  to  be  a  law 
of  nature,  that  those  who  have  mouths  should  understand  what  to 
put  in  them.  It  gratifies  the  doctor  to  confer  with  him,  and  who 
does  it  not  please  to  be  considered  a  man  of  importance  1  He  is, 
therefore,  a  member  of  the  Privy  Council,  and  a  more  useful 
men'Ser  he  is  too,  than  many  Right  Honorables  I  know  of— who 
have  more  acres  than  ideas.  The  Board  assembles  after  breakfast, 
and  a  new  dish  is  a  great  item  in  the  budget,  it  keeps  people  in 
good  'viimor  the  rest  of  the  day,  and  aflTords  topics  for  the  table. 
To  ent  tc  support  existence  is  only  fit  for  criminals.  Bread  and 
wate,  will  do  that ;  but  to  support  and  gratify  nature,  at  the  same 
time,  is  a  noble  effort  of  art,  and  well  deserves  the  thanks  of  man 
kind.  The  cook,  too,  enlivens  the  consultation  by  telling  marvel- 
lous stories  about  strange  dishes  he  has  seen.  He  has  eaten  ser- 
pents with  the  Siamese  monkeys  in  the  West  Indies,  crocodiles  and 
sloths  in  South  America,  and  cats,  rats,  and  dogs  with  the  Chinese ; 
and,  of  course,  as  nobody  can  contradict  him,  says  they  are  deli- 
cious. Like  a  salmon,  you  must  give  him  the  line  even  if  it  wea- 
ries yon,  before  you  bag  him ;  but  when  you  do  bi  'ig  Jum  to  land, 
his  dishes  are  savory.  They  have  a  relish  that  is  peculiar  to  the 
sea,  for  ivhere  there  ?«'  /  -)  c-t rrfen,  vegetables  are  rlways  most  prized. 
The  glorious  onion  is  auly  Viiued,  for  as  there  is  no  mistress  to  be 
kissed-  who  will  da*-  •    -  •»*^je   ,  to  itsaiV/mal 

" Tlien  I  like  a  Sunday  at  sea  in  a  -vcosel  like  this,  and  a  day  like 
this,  when  the  men  are  all  clean  and  tidy,  and  the  bell  ?-ings  for 
prayers,  and  all  hands  are  assembled  .aft,  to  listen  to  the  captain  as 
he  reads  the  Church  Service.  It  seems  like  a  iamily  scene.  It 
reminds  me  of  dear  ol  ^  Minister  and  days  gore  by,  when  he  used 
ta  call  us  round  hin,  and  repeated  to  us  the  promise  '  that  when 
two  or  three  were  gathered  together  in  God's  name,  he  would 
grant  their  request.'  The  only  difference  is,  sailors  are  more  aiieu- 
tive  and  devouv  than  landsmen.  They  saem  more  conscious  that 
they  are  in  the  Divine  presence.    They  have  little  to  look  upon 


OMPPEBS     WD    8TEAMEB8. 


29 


but  the  heavens  above  and  the  bourdl^  i  ocean  around  them 
Both  seem  made  on  purpose  fo^  them  ^the  sun  to  guide  them  bv 
day  and  the  stars  by  night,  the  aea  to  bear  them  on  its  bosom  and 
the  breeze  to  waft  them  on  their  course.  They  feel  how  rw^'rfess 
they  are  of  themselves  ;  how  fruiJ  their  bark  ;  how  dependent  W 
are  on  the  goodness  and  mercy  of  their  Crea'or,  and  that  it  L  He 
alone  who  can  rule  the  tempest  and  control  the  stcrmv  deeo 
Iheir  impressmns  are  few,  but  they  are  strong.  It  is  the  world 
that  hardens  the  heart  and  the  ocean  seems  apart  from  it 

1  hey  are  noble  fellows,  sailors,  and  I  love  them  :  but,  Cutler 
how  are  they  used,  especially  where  they  ought  to  be  treated  besi' 
on  board  of  men-of-war  ?  The  mon^ent  a  ship  arriv.  in  port  the 
anchor  cast  and  the  sails  furlcd-what  does  the  CV„  n  do  '  ha 
popular  Captain,  too  the  idol  of  the  men  ;  he  who  is  so  kind"  and 
so  fond  of  them?     Why,  h^  calls  them  aft,  and  says, 'Here  my 

louiV"  i^^r  '"'^^"  r"'"°^  be'offashi-e  and  e.S 
yourselves  And  they  give  three  cheers  fur  their  noble  corn 
mande:^ -the.  good-hearted  officer-the  sailor's  friend --the  jo  y 
hpih  ri,-'  IfSf^  they  bu,,d>e  into  the  boats,  and  on  to  the 
beach,  hkt  school-bcys.  And  where  do  they  g.  ?  Well  we  won't 
follow  them  for  1  never  was  in  them  places  where  LydJloZl 
CO  I  cant  describe  them,  and  one  thing  I  must  say,  I  neve^  ve^ 
found  any  pl.ce  answer  the  picture  drawf  of  it.  BuUf  ha  f  only 
of  the  accounts  are  true  that  I  have  heerd  of  them,  thev  must  be 
the  devil's  own  seminaries  of  vice  -  that's  a  fact.     EverTiSte  I'^d 

.^.u  a'     1    ^  ^1^  ""^-'^  week,  back  come  the  sailors.     Thev 

iTL  '    ',f^7'T  ^''^'  ""^  ^"J^:^^^  themselves  beyond  anything 

and  kicked  on?  *^7h  Tf  ^t^''  '^^^'-  ^^^^P>^'  ''''^  -^'  <^^«-"ed  out! 
and  kicked  out,  with  black  eyes,  broken  heads,  swelled  cheeks     < 

""^"^  w/r.^^'^^^S.'^^^'-  «'«t^^«.  ^"d  ail  thei/money  ' 

Merlin  fh:  '""^'r*^  ^^^^P"'  '^^^^'«  ^^«  matter  with  you,  Tom 
Marlin,  thai  you  hmp  so  like  a  lame  duck  ?'  ^     ' 

Nothing,  your  honor,'  says  Tom,  twitching  his  forelock  and 
s"^rtlfiU7rag:att^"  '''^'  ''''  ' ^^^^^"^'  ^^'^  '^^71 

|to  ::eTh'eTr  side'tmri''  ^'^  ^^^'^^^^'  ^^  "     ^^^  ^^^^^^  --^« 
;;  We  cleared  the  liouse  of  them.  Sir,  in  no  time.' 

Igood  ileeo'  TlL  t^^  ^"  ^?^°^I'  "^^  ^^^^'  ^"^  ^"^^  i"'  «"<^  ^et  a 
Iheart  good.'  '""  '"^  ^''"'^'  ""J^^  themselves.     It  ..oes  my 

"  slick "''".^.rrrfi'      u  T    '^  '^"^  ^"  ^^  ^  *^ther  to  his  crew." 
fchat     V  'f     N .     V  !J'     ^^""^ "  P^^y  '^  '^  ^«^  ^«"ldn't  always  talk 

Itt  ^L  a  fell;  In'r'';'  '"^  ''''''^  '^^^  '^''  ^^^^^««  ^«  ^^l 
18  10  have  a  feller  look  admiren  at  me,  when  I  utter  a  piece  of  plain 


.if 


m 


1      :   ! 

,     ■       1 


I 


:i ! n    A 


I.  i  I  i 

ii 

I- 111 


ILii! 


80 


OLIPPEBS    ANB    STEAMERS. 


common  sense  like  that,  and  turn  up  the  whites  of  his  eyes  like  a 
duck  in  thunder,  as  much  as  to  say,  what  a  pity  it  is  you  weren't 
hroughten  up  a  preacher.     It  ryles  me  considerable,  I  tell  you  » 

•  i^utler,  I  said,  "  did  you  ever  see  a  colt  in  a  p:  sture,  hoM"  he 
would  race  and  chase  round  the  field,  head,  ears  and  tail  up  and 
stop  short  snort  as  if  he  had  seen  the  ghost  of  a  bridle,  and  off 
again  hot  foot  ?  ' 

eitliel^'^'"  ^^'^  ^^'  "^  ^^*'^'  ^"*  ^^"  ^^^  "'''^  *  ^^^^'  "^^  ^  ^°y 
^  "  Well,  did  you  ever  see  a  horse  when  unharnessed  from  a  little 
Jight  wagon  and  turned  out  to  grass,  do  nearly  the  same  identical 
.hing,  and  kick  up  his  heels  like  mad,  as  much  as  to  say,  1  am  a 
tree  nigger  now?"  '' 

^'^'  Well^,^  I  have,"  said  he. 

"Stop,"  said  I,a  touchin'of  him   on   his  arm;  "what  in  the 
world  IS  that?';  and  I  pointed ^ver  the  taffrail  to  the  weather-bow 
rorpoises,"  said  he. 

"  What  are  they  a  cioin'  of?" 

"  Sportin'  of  themselves." 

.u  "  f  l^""^^^'!'  ^'*'^  ^'  "^"^  ^^  y°"  V^^^^  man  below  the  beasts  of 
the  field,  and  the  fishes  of  the  sea  ?  What  in  natur'  was  humor 
given  to  us  for,  but  for  our  divarsion?  What  sort  of  a  world 
Vould  this  be  if  every  fellow  spoke  sermons  and  talked  homilies 
^d  what  in  that  case  would  parsons  do  ?  I  leave  you  to  cypher 
•hat  out,  and  then  prove  it  by  algebra;  but  I'll  tell  you  what  they 
vouldn  t  do,  I'll  be  hanged  if  they'd  strike  for  higher  wages,  for 
ear  they  should  not  get  any  at  all." 

"  '.K"?^'^,  ""der,"  said  he  ;  «  }  ou  may  take  my  hat ;  now  go  on 
and  finish ^the  compar  .on  between  Clippers  and  Steamers." 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "as  I  was  a  sayin'.  Captain,  give  me  a  craft  like 
this,  that  spreads  its  wings  like  a  bird,  and  looks  as  if  it  was  born 
not  made,  a  whole-sail  breeze,  and  a  seaman  every  inch  of  him  like 
you  on  the  deck,  who  looks  you  in  the  fiice,  in  a  way  as  if  he'd 
like  to  say  only  bragging  ain't  genteel,  ain't  she  a  clippei  now 
and  am  t  I  the  man  to  handle  her?  Now  this  ain't  the  case  in  a 
steamer.  Ihey  ain't  vessels,  they  are  more  like  floating  factories  • 
you  see  the  steam  machines  and  the  enormous  fires,  and  the  clouds 
of  smoke,  but  yon  don't  visit  the  rooms  whe.  the  looms  are  that's 
all.  They  plough  through  the  sea  dead  and  heavy,  like  a  subsoiler 
with  Its  eight  horse  team  ;  there  is  no  life  in  'em  ;  they  can't  dance 
on  the  waters  as  if  they  rejoiced  in  their  course,  but  divide  the 
waves  as  a  rock  does  in  a  river ;  they  seem  to  move  more  in  defi 
ancej)f  the  sea,  than  as  if  they  were  in  an  element  of  their  own. 

"They  puff  and  blow  like  boasters  braggin' that  they  extract 
from  the  oceai  the  means  to  make  it  help  to  subdue  itself  It  is  r. 
war  of  the  elements,  fire  and  water  contendin'  for  victory.     Thev 


CLIPPERS     AND     STEAMERS. 


81 


his  eyes  like  a 
is  you  weren't 
,  I  tell  you." 
c  sture,  hoM-  he 
nd  tail  up,  and 
bridle,  and  off 

olt,  nor  a  boy 

id  from  a  little 
same  identical 
to  say,  1  am  a 


"what  in  the 
weather-bow. 


the  beasts;  of 
r'  was  humor 
ft  of  a  world 
ked  homilies, 
you  to  cypher 
ou  what  they 
ler  wages,  for 

i ;  now  go  on 

ners." 

le  a  craft  like 

'  it  was  born, 

ih  of  him  like 

^ay  as  if  he'd 

clippei    now, 

the  case  in  a 
ing  factories ; 
nd  the  clouds 
ms  are,  that's 
:e  a  sulssoiler 
sy  can't  dance 
It  divide  the 
more  in  defi 

their  own. 
they  extract 
tself.     It  is  ft 
Jtory.     Theji 


ar?  black,  dingy,  forblddin'  looking  sea  monsters.  -  It  is  no  wonder 
the  superstitious  Spaniard,  when  he  first  saw  one,  said-  *A  vessel 
that  goes  against  the  tide,  and  against  the  wind,  and  without  sails 
goes  against  God,'  or  that  the  simple  negro  thought  it  was  a  sea 

I  ■  Vu^r^  r'^  '^''  /^'  "=^''^^"2  ^^^^ght,  because  they  are 
beasts  of  burden,  but  not  for  carrying  travellers,  unless  they  are 
mere  birds  of  passage  like  our  Y(uikee  tourists,  who  want  to  have 
i  to  say  I  was  '  ihar^  1  hate  them.  The  decks  are  dirty  •  vour 
skm  and  clothes  are  dirty  ;  and  your  lungs  become  foul ;  smoke 
pervades  everythin',  and  now  and  then  the  condensation  gives  vou 
a  shower  of  i  ooty  water  by  way  of  variety,  that  scalds  your  face 
and  dyes  your  coat  into  a  sort  of  pepper-and-salt  color 

You  miss  the  sailors,  too.     There  are  none  on  board— vou  miss 
the  nice  light,  tighi-built,  lathy,  wiry,  active,  neat  jolly  crew      In 
their  place  you  have  nasty,  dirty,  horrid  stokers;  some  hoisting 
hot  cinders,  and  throwing  them   overboard,  (not  with  the  merry 
countenances    of   niggers,   or    the    cheerful    sway-away-my-bovs 
expression   of  the  Jack   Tar,  but  with   sour,  cameronean-lookiu' 
faces,  that  seem  as  i^  they  were  dreadfully  disappointed  thev  were 
not  persecuted  any  longer— had  no  churches  and  altars  to  desecrate 
and  no  bishops  to  anoint  with  the  oil  of  hill-side  maledictions  as  of 
old)  while  others  are  emerging  from  the  fiery  furnaces  beneath  for 
fresh  air,  and  wipe  a  hot,  dirty  face  with  a  still  dirtier  shirt  sleeve 
and  m  return  for  the  nauseous  exudation,  lay  on  afresh  coat  of 
blacking,  tall,  gaunt  wretches,  who  pant  for  breath  as  they  snuff 
the  fresh  breeze,  like  porpouses,  and  then  dive  again  into  the  lower 
regions      Ihey  are  neither  seamen  nor  landsmen,  good  whips  nor 
decent  shots,  their  hair  is  not  woolly  enough  for  niggers,  and  their 
aces  are  too  black  forwhite  men.    ^They  ain't  amphibious  ani mils' 
ike  marines,  and  otters.     They  are  Salamanders.     But  that's  a 
long  word,  and  now  they  call  them  stokers  for  shortness. 

Ihen  steamers  carry  a  mob,  and  I  detest  mobs,  especially  such 
EinaTM'^  delight  in-greasy  Jews,  hairy  Germans,  Mulatto- 
ookmg  Italians,  squalling  children,  that  run  between  your  legs  and 
Uirow  you  down,  or  wipe  the  butter  off  their  bread  on  your  clothes  • 
Englishmen  that  will  grumble,  and  Irishmen  that  will  fight ;  priests 
hat  won  t  talk,  and  preachers  that  will  harangue  ;  women  that  will 
be  carried  about,  because  they  won't  lie  still  and  be  quiet  •  silk 
men,  cotton  men,  bonnet  men,  iron  men,  trinket  men,  and  every 

sm L  r'"'.''''^  ''™'"^  ^"^^^'^  "«*'^"^g  i»  the  world  but 
'  In'll  1  "V  r"'*''  r^'  ^7'''^"^''  ^"^  ««  «"'  ^"^  ^^-^^'^  talk  of  any. 
:tl!  ..L!r''  ''^^^''^''  "P  ""^  ^^^^'^  the  deck,  four  or  five 
nrpvpn^^  "„n  "'"''"'  f  ^f  "^  or  nve  ol  the  same  craft  on  board,  and 
siaceU  °"'  f'  /'T  P^°^^^"adin',  by  sweepin'  the  whole 
8pace  while  every  lurch  the  ship  gives,  one  of  them  tumbles  atop 
Of  you,  or  treads  on  your  toes,  and  then,  instead  of  apologisia^ 


w^ 


8S 


CLIPPERS     AND    STEAMEB9. 


h 


fill  I 


i^ 


I 


m 


turns  round  and  ahuses  you  like  a  pick-pocket  for  sticki'"'  vour  feet 
out  and  trippin'  people  up.  Thinkin'  is  out  of  the  qucL  ^and  as 
for  readin',  you  might  as  well  read  your  fortune  in  the  st;.rs. 

"Just  as  you  begin,  that  lovely-lookin',  rosy -cheeked,  wicked- 
eyed  gall,  that  canj  on  board  so  full  of  health  and  spirits,  but  now 
looks  lii<e  a  faded,  striped  ribbon,  white,  yeller,  pink,  and  brown — 
dappled  all  over  her  face,  but  her  nose,  which  has  a  red  spot  on  it 
— ^lifts  up  a  pair  of  lack-lustre  peepers  that  look  glazed  like  the 
round,  dull  ground  glass  lights  let  into  the  deck,  suddenly  wakes 
up  squeamish,  and  says,  '  Please,  Sir,  help  me  down  ;  1  feel  so  ill.' 
Well,  you  take  her  up  in  your  arms,  and  for  the  first  time  in  your 
life,  hold  her  head  from  you,  for  fear  she  will  reward  you  in  a  way 
that  ain't  no  matter,  and  she  feels  as  soft  as  dough,  and  it  seems  as 
if  your  fingers  left  dents  in  her  putty-like  arms,  and  you  carry  her 
to  the  nead  of  the  stairs,  and  call  out  for  the  stewardess,  and  a 
waiter  answers,  "  Stewardess  is  tight.  Sir.' 

" '  I  am  glad  of  it,  ehe  is  just  the  person  I  want.  I  wish  all  the 
other  passengers  were  tight  also.' 

"  '  Lord,  Sir,  that  ain't  it — she  is  mops  and  brooms.' 

"  '  Mops  and  brooms,  I  suppose  she  is,  she  r-nust  have  plenty  use 
for  them,  I  reckon,  to  keep  all  snug  and  tidy  down  there.' 

"  Good  gracious,  Sir,  don't  you  understand,  she  is  half  seas 
over.' 

'"True,  so  we  all  are,  the  captain  said  so  to-day  at  twelve 
o'clock.     1  wish  we  were  over  altogether.     Send  her  up.' 

"  '  No,  no,  Sir,  she  is  more  than  half  shaved.' 

" 'The  devil !  does  she  shave  ?  1  don't  believe  she  is  a  woman 
at  all.  I  see  how  it  is,  you  have  been  putting  one  of  the  sailors 
into  petticoats.'     And  the  idea  makes  even  the  invalid  gall  laugh. 

"  No,  no.  Sir,  she  is  tipsy.' 

"  '  Th*- 1  why  the  plague  couldn't  you  say  so  at  once.  I  guess 
you  kinder  pride  yourself  in  your  slang.  Help  me  to  assist  this 
lady  down  to  her  friends.' 

"  Well,  when  you  return  on  deck,  lo  and  behold,  your  seat  is 
occupied,  and  you  must  go  and  stand  by  the  rail  till  one  is  vacant, 
when  another  gall  that  ain't  ill,  but  inconveniently  well,  sYi  is  so 
full  of  chat,  says,  '  Look,  look.  Sir,  dear  me,  what  is  that,  Sir  ?  a 
"  '^oise.  Why  you  don't,  did  you  ever !  well,  1  never  see  a  por 
poise  afore  in  all  my  born  days  !  are  they  good  to  eat,  Sir? ' 

"  '  Excellent  food  for  whaleo.  Mips.' 

"  '  Well  I  never  !  do  they  swallow  them  right  down  1 ' 

"  '  I  guess  they  do,  tank,  shank  and  flank,  at  one  gulp.' 

"'Why  how  in  the  v/orld  do  they  ever  gpt — '  but  ehe  don't 
finish  the  sentence,  for  the  silk  man,  cotton  man,  iron  man  or  trin- 
ket man,  whichever  is  nearest,  says,  'There  is  a  ship  on  the  lee* 


CLIPPERS     AND    STEAMERS. 


88 


wish  all  the 


)  on  the  lee- 


bow.      He  says  that  because  it  sounds  sailor-like,  but  it  happens 
Lo  be  the  weather-bow,  and  you  have  seen  her  an  hour  before 

"  '  Can  you  make  her  out  ?  '  sais  he,  that's  another  sea  t.^rra  he 
has  picked  up ;  he  will  talk  like  a  horse-marine  at  last. 

"  '  Yes,'  sais  you,  '  she  is  a  Quang-Tonger.' 

'"  A  Quang-Tonger  ? '  sais  the  gall,  and  before  the  old  coon  has 
digested  that  hard  word,  she  asks,  '  what  in  natur  is  that «  ' 

" '  Why,  Miss,  Quang-Tong  is  a  province  of  China,  and  Canton 
IS  the  capital ;  all  the  vessels  at  Canton  are  called  Quanff-Tontrers 
but  strangers  call  them  Chinese  Junks.  °     ' 

"  Now,  Miss,  you  have  seen  two  new  things  to-day,  a  bottle- 
nosed  porpoise  and — ' 

" '  Was  that  a  bottle-nosed  porpoise.  Sir?  why  you  don't  say 
Bo  !  why,  how  you  talk,  why  do  they  call  them  bottle-noses  ^  ' 

'  Because,  Miss,  they  make  what  is  called  velvet  corks  out  of 
their  snouts.  They  are  reckoned  the  best  corks  in  the  world  and 
then,    you  have  seen  a  Chinese  Junk  ?  ' 

"  'A  Chinese  Junk,'  sais  the  astonished  trinket  man  '  well  I 
vow!  'a  Chinese  Junk,  do  tell!'  and  one  gall  calls  Jeremiah 
IJodge,  and  the  other  her  father  and  her  sister,  Mary  Anne  Matilda 
i  Jane,  to  come  and  see  the  ^:hinese  Junk,  and  all  the  passencrers 
rush  to  the  other  side,  and  say ;  '  whare  whare,'  and  the  two  discov- 
ererssay:  'there  there 'and  you  valk  across  the  deck  and  take 
one  of  the  evacuated  seats  you  have  been  longin'  for ;  and  as  you 
pass,  you  give  a  wink  to  the  officer  of  the  deck,  who  puts  his 
tongue  in  his  cheek  as  a  token  of  approbation,  and  -ou  be^^in  to 

I  read  again,  as  you  fancy,  in  peace.  "  ° 

"  B'^<^-  tjjere  is  no  peace  in  a  steamer,  it  is  nothin'  but  a  large 
calaboose,*  chock  full  of -moners.  As  soon  as  you  have  found 
your  place  in  the  book,  and  taken  a  fresh  departure,  the  bonnet  man 
sais,     ple^^e,  sir,  a  seat  for  a  lady,'  and  you  have  to  get  up  and 

[  give  It  to  his  wife's  lady's-maid.  His  wife  ain't  a  lady,  but  having 
a  lady  s  maid,  shows  she  intends  to  set  up  for  one  when  she  gets  to 

,home.  To  be  a  lady,  she  must  lay  in  a  lot  of  airs,  and  to  brush 
her  own  hair,  and  garter  her  own  stockins,  is  vulgar-  if  it  wa* 
known  m  first  Avenue,  Spruce-street,  in  Bonnetville,  it  would 
ruin  her  as  a  woman  of  fashion,  forever  • 

Llnlff7]:-^''T'^  man  wouldn't  ask  you  to  get  up  and  give  youi 

II  Y.?l  ""f"  ^''^  ^''^P'  ^'^'^  ^'  '^'^^^^  y«^  ^^«  ^  Yankee,  ana 
r.«  1  •'    .  """'^  '-y'  ^7  ^^g'^larly  fooled  with  women  and 

Ipreachers  ;  just  as  much  as  that  walking  advertisement  of  a  mill- 
[ner  is  with  her  lady's-maid.     All  over  America  in  rail  carrlac.es 
CSf  -^J-"^^.  ^i^er  siuamers  ana  public  places  of  all  sorts,  every 
teritter  that  wears  a  white  choker,  and  looks  like  a  minister,  hm 

•  CalabooBe  is  a  Southern  name  for  jail. 


84 


CLIPPERS    AND     8TEAMEES. 


mn 


m 


If 


il 


II      '' 


i  ^''n 


■W 


*»ie  best  seat  given  him.  He  expects  it,  as  a  matter  of  course,  and 
as  every  female  is  a  lady,  every  woman  ha.^  a  right  to  ask  you 
to  quit,  without  notice,  for  her  accommodation.  Now,  it's  all  very 
well,  and  very  proper  to  be  respectful  to  preachers ;  and  to  be 
polite  and  courteous  to  women,  and  more  especially  those  that 
are  unprotected,  but  there  is  a  limit,  tother*  side  of  which  lies 
absurdity. 

"  Now,  if  you  had  seen  as  much  of  the  world  as  [  have,  and 
many  other  travelled  Yankees,  when  bonnet  man  asked  you  to 
give  up  your  seat  to  the  maid,  you  would  have  pretended  not  to 
understand  English,  and  not  to  know  what  he  wanted,  but  would 
have  answered  him  in  French  and  offered  him  the  book,  and  said 
certainly  you  would  give  it  to  him  with  pleasure,  and  when  he  said 
he  didn  t  speak  French,  but  what  he  desired,  was  your  place  for 
the  lady  you  would  have  addressed  her  in  German,  and  offered 
her  the  book,  and  whe  they  looked  at  each  other,  and  lau-rhed  at 
their  blunder,  in  thus  taking  you  for  a  Yankee,  perhaps  the  man 
next  to  you  would  have  offered  his  seat,  and  then  when  old  bonnet 
man  walked  off  to  look  at  the  Chinese  Junk,  you  would  have 
catered  into  conversation  with  the  lady's  maid,  and  told  her  it  was 
a  n?e  you  took  out  of  the  old  fellow  to  get  her  along  side  of  you 
and  she  .vould  enjoy  the  joke,  and  you  would  have  found  her  a 
thousand  times  more  handsome,  and  more  conversational  and 
agreeable  than  her  mistress. 

"  But  this  ■>  .uldn't  last  long,  for  the  sick  gall  would  be  carried 
up  on  deck  ar  ,  woman  like,  though  ill,  very  restless,  and  chock 
tuil  ot  curiosit^  to  see  the  Chinese  Junk  also ;  so  you  are  caucrht 
by  your  own  bam,  and  have  to  move  again  once  more.  The  bell 
comes  m  aid  and  summons  you  to  dinner.  Ah,  the  scene  in  the 
lower  of  Babel  is  rehearsed  !  what  a  confusion  of  tonaues'  what  a 
clatter  of  knives  and  forks  and  dishes  !  the  waiter  that  goes  and 
won  t  come  back  ;  and  he  who  sees,  pities  but  can't  help  vou  •  and 
he  who  is  so  near  sighted,  he  can't  hear;  and  he  who"  id  inter- 
oepted,  and  made  prisoner  on  his  way. 

"  What  a  profusion  of  viands— but  how  little  to  eat !  this  is 
cold ;  that  underdone ;  this  is  tough ;  that  you  never  eat ;  while 
all  smeiroily,  oh,  the  only  dish  you  did  fancy,  you  can't  touch,  for 
that  horrid  German  has  put  his  hand  into  it.  But  it  is  all  told  i-i 
one  short  sentence ;  two  hundred  and  fifty  passengers  supply  two 
hundred  and  fifty  reasons  themselves,  why  I  should  prefer  a  sailina 
vessel  with  a  -mall  party  to  a  crowded  steamer.  If  you  want  tS 
see  them  in  perfeoiion,  go  wh  I  have  been  it  on  board  the  Cali- 
tornia  boats  and  Mississippi  river  crafts.  The  FrP.noh  Ancfr-" 
and  Italian  boats  are  as  bad.  The  two  great  Ocean  lines,  Ameri- 
can  aud  i^nghsh  are  as  g.od  as  anything  bad  can  be,  but  the  other  i 
are  all  abominable.     They  are  small  worlds  over-crowded    and 


ih.  .4 


CLIPPERS    AND    STEAMERS. 


85 


rs ;  and  to  be 


C'h       Aiiofr'ioT 


while  these  small  worlds  exist,  the  evil  will  remain  ;  for  alas  their 
passengers  go  backward  and  forward,  they  don't  emigrate— thev 
inigrate;  they  go  for  the  winter  and  return  for  the  sprin^r  or  so 
ni  the  sprmg  and  return  in  the  fall.  °'       ^ 

"  -^  me,  Commodore,  there  is  old  Sorrow  ringing  his  merry  bell 
for  ..  .ogo  to  dmner.  I  have  ai^idea  we  shall  have  ample 
ro  :v.;  ,.  good  appetite,  and  time  enough  to  eat  and  eniov  i t  • 
I7ye2  it""''  ''"'  Americans,  never  refuse  to  go  where 

After  dinner,  Cutler  reverted  to  the  conversation  we  had  had 
before  we  went  belovv,  though  I  don't  know  that  I  should  call  it 
conversation  either ;  for  1  believe  I  did,  as  usual,  most  of  the  talk- 
ing  myself. 

«  •  I  agree  with  you,'  said  he,  'in  your  comparative  estimate  of 
a  saihng  vessel  and  a  steamer;  I  like  the  former  the  best  myself 
It  IS  more  agreeable  for  the  reasons  you  have  stated  to  a  passenc^er* 
but  It  is  still  more  agreoable  to  the  officer  in  command  of  her  oa 
auother  account.  In  a  sailing  vessel,  all  your  work  is  on  deck 
everything  is  before  you,  and  everybody  under  your  conmS' 
One  glance  of  a  seaman's  eye  is  sufficient  to  detect  if  anyS  is 
amiss  and  no  one  man  is  indispensable  to  you.  In  a  steamer  the 
work  IS  all  below,  the  machinery  is  out  of  your  sight,  coS^^^^^^ 
and  one  part  dependent  on  another.  If  it ^ts  out  of  order  you 
are  brought  up  with  a  round  turn,  all  standing,  and  often  in  a 
::^:1^S^:::T'     ^--'^-Pairdamageetny,  sometime: 

''Whereas  carrying  away  a  sail,  a  spar,  a  topmast,  or  anvthina 
ot  that  kind,  impedes,  but  don't  stop  you,  and  if  i    is  annh  na 
very  serious,  there  are  a  thousand  wa^s  of  making  a  temporary 
rig  that  will  answer  till  you  make  a  port.     But  wha^t  I  like  best  is 
when  my  ship  is  in  the  daldrums,  I  am  equal  to  the  emergency  ' 

o'    hVt\voV;'?n'".'?^f  ^^  ^'"  'y^^y-^S,thls  can't  bfdol; 
0    that  won  t  do,  and  to  stand  jawing  and  arguing  instead  of  obey 
ing  and  doing.     Clippers  of  the  right  lines,%izl  and  build,  we^I 
found  manned  and  commanded,  will  make  nearly  as  good  Work 


times  when  death  stares  you  wildlylr  :he  face  ' 

'Exactly,'' sais  I,  'as  if  he  would  like  to  know  you  the  next 
time  he  came  for  you,  so  as  not  to  apprehend  the  wroCone      He 

VOu'cmddn't\''r"  ^'^^"Va  ""'<  '"^^  ^''  '^^  ^PP«^r«  t<^  ^^  as  if 
>  ou  couldn  t  be  serious  for  five  minutes  at  a  time.     I  can  tell  you 

If  you  were  on  a  rocky  lea-shoro,  with  the  wind  and  waves  urging 


1(1-^ 


h 


i!;i. 


I!    !' 


i 


I 


tMt 


86 


CLIPPERS     A.NO    STBAMBBS. 


you  or.,  and  you  barely  holding  your  own,  perhaps  losing  ground 
every  tack,  you  wouldn't  talk  quite  so  glibly  of  death.  Was  you 
ever  in  a  real  heavy  gale  of  wind  V 

"  '  Warn't  I,'  said  I ;  'the  fust  time  I  returned  from  Engmnd,  it 
blew  great  guns  all  the  voyago,  one  gale  after  another,  and  the  last 
always  wuss  than  the  one  bej^re.  It  carried  away  our  sails  as  fast 
as  we  bent  them/ 

"  '  That's  nothing  unusual,'  said  Cutler ;  '  there  are  worse  things 
han  that  at  sea.' 

"  '  Well,  I'll  tell  you,'  sais  I,  '  what  it  did  ;  and  if  that  ain't  an 
uncommon  thing,  then  my  name  aint  Sam  Slick.  It  blew  all  the 
hair  off  my  dog,  except  a  little  tuft  at  ween  his  ears.     It  did,  upon 

my  soul.     I  hope  I  may  never  leave " 

"  '  Don't  swear  to  it.  Slick,'  said  he,  '  that's  a  good  fellow.  It's 
impossible.' 

"  *  Attestin'  to  it  will  make  your  hair  stand  on  eend  too,  I  sup 
pose,'  said  I ;  '  but  it's  as  true  as  preachin'  for  all  that.  What  will 
you  bet  it  didn't  happen  V 

" '  Tut,  man ;  nonsense,'  said  he ;  '  I  tell  you  the  thing  is  im- 
possible.' 

"  '  Ah !'  said  I,  '  that's  because  you  have  been  lucky,  and  never 
saw  a  riprorious  hurricane  in  all  your  life.  I'll  tell  you  how  it 
was.  I  bought  a  blood-hound  from  a  man  in  Regent's  Park,  just 
afore  I  sailed,  and  the  brute  got  sea-sick,  and  then  took  the  mange, 
and  between  that  and  death  starin'  him  in  the  face,  his  hair  all 
came  off,  and  in  course  it  blew  away,     [s  that  impossible  V 

"  '  Well,  well,'  said  he,  '  you  have  the  most  comical  way  with 
you  of  any  man  I  ever  see.  I  am  sure  it  ain't  i)i  your  nature  to 
speak  of  death  in  that  careless  manner  ;  you  only  talked  that  way 
to  draw  me  out.  I  know  you  did.  It's  not  a  subject,  however,  to 
treat  lightly ;  and  if  you  are  not  inclined  to  be  serious  jdst  now, 
tell  us  a  story.' 

" '-  Serious,'  sals  I,  '  I  am  disposed  to  be ;  b  it  not  sanctimonious, 
and  you  know  that.  But  here  goes  for  a  story,  which  has  a  nice 
little  moral  in  it,  too. 

" '  Once  on  a  time,  when  pigs  were  swine,  and  turkeys  chewed 
tobacco,  and  little  birds  built  their  nests  in  old  men's  beards.' 

"  '  Pooh  !'  said  he,  turning  off  huffy-like,  as  if  I  was  a  goin'  to 
bluff  him  off.     '  I  wonder  whether  supper  is  ready  V 

"  '  Cutler,'  sais  I,  '  come  back,  that's  a  good  fellow,  and  I'll  tell 
you  the  story.  It's  a  short  one,  and  will  just  fill  up  the  space  be. 
tween  this  and  tea-time.  It  is  in  illustration  of  what  you  was  a 
sayin',  that  it  ain't  always  fair  weather  sailing  in  this  world. 
There  was  a  jack-tar  once  to  jingland  who  had  been  absent  on  a 
vhaling  voyage  for  nearly  three  years,  and  he  had  hardly  landed 
when  ho  was  ordered  off  to  sea  again,  before  he  had  time  ic  go 


^  - 


UNLOOKIKG    A    TVOMAll's    HEABT 


87 


r  sails  as  fast 


.  fellow.     It's 


home  and  see  his  friends.     He  was  a  lamentin'  this  to  a  shipmate 
cf  his,  a  serious-minded  man,  like  you. 

" '  Sais  he,  '  Bill,  it  breaketh  my  heart  to  have  to  leave  agin 
arter  this  fashion.     I  havn't  seen  PolJy  now  goin'  on  three  years 
nor  the  little  un  either.'     And  he  actilly  piped  his  eye.  * 

" '  It  seemeth  hard,  Tom,'  said  Bill,  tryin'  to  comfort  him—-'  it 
seemeth  hard  ;  but  I'm  an  older  man  nor  you  be,  Tom,  the  matter 
of  several  years ;'  and  he  gave  his  trowsers  a  twitch.  ('  You  know 
they  don't  wear  galluses,  though  a  gallus  holds  them  up  some- 
times,  )  shifted  his  quid,  gave  his  nor'wester  a  pull  over  his  fore- 
head, and  looked  solemncholly,  '  and  my  experience,  Tom,  is  that 
thi3  life  ahxH  all  beer  and  skittles.''  ' 

Cutler,  there  is  a  great  deal  of  philosophy  in  that  maxim  •  a 
preacher  couldn't  say  as  much  in  a  sermon  an  hour  long  as  there 
IS  in  that  little  story  with  that  little  moral  reflection  at  the  eend 
of  it. 

''\This  life  ain't  all  leer  and  skittles:  Many  a  time  since  I 
heard  that  anecdote— and  I  heard  it  in  Kew  Gardens,  of  all  places 
in  the  world— when  I  am  disappointed  sadly  J  say  that  saw  over 
and  console  myself  with  it.  1  can't  expect  to  go  thro'  the  world! 
Cutler,  as  1  have  done :  stormy  days,  long  and  dark  nights  are  be- 
tore  me.  As  I  grow  old,  1  shan't  be  so  full  of  animal  spirits  as  I 
have  been.  In  the  natur  of  things  I  must  have  my  share  of  aches, 
and  pains  and  disappointment,  as  well  as  others  :  and  when  they 
come  nothing  will  better  help  me  to  bear  them  than  that  little, 
simple  reflection  of  the  sailor,  which  appeals  so  directly  to  the 
Heart,     feam,  this  life  aint  all  beer  and  skittles,  that's  a  fact ' " 


1 » 


CHAPTER   III. 
UNLOCKING   A   WOMAN'S    HEART. 

w^^f  J-®  approached  the  eastern  coast,  "  Eldad,"  sais  I,  to  the 
Kh  \-/%^''^  any  harbor  about  here  where  our  folks  can  do  a 
home  ''  '        ^  '^^^  ^^^  something  of  '  Fishermen  at 

"  We  must  be  careful  now  how  we  proceed,  for  if  the  'Soitfire' 

floats  at  the  flood,  Captain  Stoker  will  t^iy  perhaps  to  overhau^I  us." 

Don  t  we  want  to  wood  and  water,  and  .nint  thP.rA  snm«  t-.v^.,;-- 

poit;  but  I  don't  think  we  will  attempt  to  fish  again  within  the 
treaty  limits,  for  it's  dangerous  work." 


i 


illiii 


«i 


;ll|i 


!!■'  ■:ii 


38 


UNLOCKING    A     WOMAn's     HEART. 


((   11    f^'     ^''^'.^  ^^'  touching  his  nose  with  the  point  of  his  finger, 
all  these  things  are  needed,  and  when  thev  are  going  on,  themata 
and  I  can  attend  +0  the  business  of  the  owners."     He  then  looked 
cautiously  round  to  sec  that  the  Captain  war  not  within  hearing. 

"  Warn't  it  the  '  Black  Hawk'  that  was  chased?"  said  he.     "  I 
think  that  was  our  name  then," 
•'  Why,  to  be  sure  it  was,"  said  I. 

"  Well,"  sais  he,  "  this  is  the  '  Sary  Ann,'  of  New  Bedford, 
now, '  and  proceeding  aft  he  turned  a  screw,  and  1  could  hear  a 
board  shift  in  the  stern. 

"  Do  you  mind  that?"  said  he  .  •'  well,  you  can't  see  it  where 
you  stand  just  now,  at  present;  but  the  'Sary  Ann'  shows  her 
name  there,  now,  and  we  have  a  set  of  papers  to  correspond.  I 
guess  the  Britisher  can't  seize  her,  because  the  '  Black  Hawk'  broke 
the  treaty  ;  can  he  ?  "  And  he  gave  a  knowing  jupe  of  his  head 
as  much  as  to  say,  aint  that  grand  1 

Now,  our  new  Captain  is  a  straight-laced  sort  of  man,  you  see  ; 
but  the  cantin  fellow  of  a  master  you  had  on  board  before,  warn't 
above  a  dodge  of  this  kind.  If  it  comes  to  the  scratch,  you  must 
take  the  command  again,  for  Cutler  won't  have  art  nor  part  in  this 
game  ;  and  we  may  be  reformed  out  afore  we  know  where  we  are." 
"  Well,"  s?is  I,  "  there  is  no  occasion,  I  guess  ;  put  us  some- 
where  a  little  out  of  sight,  and  we  won't  break  the  treaty  no  more. 
I  reckon,  the  'Spitfire,'  after  all,  would  just  as  soon  be  in  port  as 
lookmg  after  us.  It's  small  potatoes  for  a  man-of-war  to  be  hunt- 
mg  poor  game,  like  us  little  fore  and  afters." 

"  As  you  like,"  he  said,  "  but  we  are  prepared,  yod  see,  for  the 
mate  and  men  understand  the  whole  thing.  It  aint  the  first  time 
they  have  escaped  by  changing  their  sign-board." 

"  Exactly,"  said  I,  "  a  ship  aint  like  a  dog ;  that  can  only  answer 
to  one  name,  and  'Sary  Ann'  is  as  good  as  the  'Black  Hawk,' 
every  mite  and  morsel.  There  is  a  good  deal  of  fun  in  altering 
sign-boards.  I  recollect  wunst,  when  I  was  a  boy,  there  was  a 
firm  to  Slickville,  who  had  this  sign  over  their  shop : 

'  Gallop  and  More, 
Taylors.' 
"  Well,  one  Saturday-night,  brother  Josiah  and  I  got  a  paint- 
brush,  and  altered  it  this  way  : 

'  Gallop  and  8  More 

Taylors 

Make  a  man.' 

"Lord  !  what  a  commotion  it  made  !     Ntxt  day  was  Sunday ; 

and  as  the  folks  were  going  to  church,  they  stood  and  laughed,  and 

raved  like  anything.     It  made  a  terrible  hulla-bulloo." 

" '  Sam,'  said  minister  to  me,  '  what  in  natur  is  ail  that  ondecent 
noise  about,  so  near  the  church  door  ? ' 


ITNLOOKINO    A    WOMAN's    HEABT. 


89 


on,  the  mata 


see  it  where 


lat  ondecent 


"  I  told  him.  It  was  most  too  much  for  him,  hut  he  bit  in  hia 
breath,  and  tried  to  look  grave;  but  I  see  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  and 
the  corner  of  his  mouth  twitch,  the  way  your  eyelid  does  some- 
times, when  a  nerve  gets  a  dancing  mvoluntarily. 

" '  A  very  foolish  joke,  San^,'  he  said ;  '  it  may  get  you  into 
trouble." 

"  '  Why,  minister,'  said  I, '  I  hope  you  vlon't  think  that — ' 

"  '  No,'  said  he,  '  1  don't  think  at  all,  I  know  it  was  you,  for  it's 
just  like  you.     But  it's  a  foolish  joke ;  for,  Sam  : 

"  '  Honor  and  worth  from  no  condition  rise—' 

" '  Exactly,'  sais  I, 

*' '  Stitch  well  your  part,  there  all  tue  honor  lies.' 

" '  Sam,  Sam,'  said  he,  '  you  are  a  bad  boy,'  and  he  put  on  & 
serious  face,  and  went  in  rnd  got  his  gown  ready  for  service. 

"  The  '  Sary  Ann,'  for  the  '  Black  Hawk,'  "  sais  I  to  myself, 
"well  that  aint  bad  either ;  but  there  are  mo^e  chests  of  tea  and 
kegs  of  brandy,  and  such  like,  taken  right  by  the  custom-house 
door  at  Halifax  in  loads  of  hay  and  straw,  then  comes  by  water, 
just  because  it  is  the  onlikeliest  way  in  the  world  any  man  would 
do  iu  But  it  is  only  some  of  the  Bay  of  Fundy  boys  that  are  up 
to  that  dodge.  Smugglers  in  general  haven't  the  courage  to  do 
that.  Dear  me !"  sais  I  to  myself,  "  ;vhen  was  there  ever  a  law 
that  coul  I't  be  evaded  ;  a  tax  that  couldn't  be  shuffled  olT  like  an 
old  slipper ;  a  prohibition  that  a  smuggler  couldn't  row  right 
straight  through,  or  a  treaty  that  hadn't  more  holes  in  it  than  a 
dozen  sup  lemental  ones  could  patch  up  1  ICs  a  high  fence  that 
caiiH  be  scaled,  and  a  strong  one  that  canU  be  broke  down.  When 
there  are  accomplices  in  the  house,  it  is  easier  to  get  the  door  unlocked 
than  to  force  it.  Receivers  make  smugglers.  Where  there  are  not 
informers,  penalties  are  dead  letters.  The  people  here  like  to  see  us, 
for  it  is  their  interest,  and  we  are  safe,  as  long  as  they  are  friendly. 
I  don't  wa;nt  to  smuggle,  for  I  scorn  such  a  pettifogin'  business,  as 
Josiah  would  call  it ;  but  I  must  and  will  see  how  the  thing  works, 
so  as  to  report  it  to  the  President." 

"  Well,  Eldad,"  sais  I,  "  I  leave  all  this  to  you.  I  want  to  avoid 
a  scrape  if  I  can,  so  put  us  in  a  place  of  safety,  and  be  careful  how 
you  proceed." 

"  I  understand,'*  sr'  ^  he.  "  Now,  Mr.  Slick,  look  yonder,"  point- 
ing towards  the  shore.     "  What  is  that  V 

"A  large  ship  under  full  sail,"  said  I,  "  but  it  is  curious  she  has 
got  the  wind  off  shore,  and  just  dead  on  end  to  us." 

"  Are  you  sure,"  said  he,  "  it  is  a  ship,  for  if  we  get  foul  of  her 
we  shall  be  sunk  in  a  moment,  and  every  »oul  on  board  perish." 


40 


UNLOCKING    A     WOMAN's    HEART. 


Lil 


II 


I    •  ■ 


Mil'' 


;,i! 


If 


"  Is  it  a  cruiser  ?"  sais  I ;  "  because  if  it  1%,  steer  boldly  for  her, 
and  I  will  go  on  board  of  her,  and  shew  my  commission  as  an 
officer  of  our  everlastin'  nation.  Captain,"  said  I,  '•  what  is  that 
stranger  V* 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  and 
examined  her.  "A  large,  square-rigged  vessel,"  he  said,  "  under  a 
heavy  press  of  canvas,"  and  resumed  his  wallc  on  the  decic. 

After  a  while  the  pilot  said :  "  Look  again,  Mr.  Slick,  can  you 
make  her  out  now  ?" 

*'  Why,"  sais  I,  "  she  is  only  a  brigantine;  but  ask  the  skipper." 

He  took  his  glass  and  scrutinized  her  closely,  and  as  he  replaced 
it  in  the  binnacle  said  :  "  We  are  going  to  have  southerly  weather 
I  think  ;  she  loomed  very  large  when  1  first  saw  her,  and  1  took  her 
for  a  ship  ;  but  ifow  she  seems  to  be  an  hermophrodite.  It's  of  no 
consequence  to  us,  however,  what  she  is,  and  we  shall  soon  near 
her." 

"  Beyond  that  vessel,"  said  the  pilot,  "  there  is  a  splendid  har- 
bor,  and  as  there  has  been  a  head  wind  for  some  time,  I  have  no 
doubt  there  are  maoy  coasters  in  there,  from  the  masters  of  whom 
you  can  obtain  much  useful  information  on  the  object  of  your  visit, 
while  we  can  drive  a  profitable  trade  among  them  and  the  folks 
ashore.  How  beautifully  these  harbors  are  situated,"  he  continued, 
"  for  carrying  on  the  fisheries,  and  Nova  Scotian  though  I  be,  I  must 
say,  I  do  think,  in  any  other  part  of  the  -world  there  would  be 
large  towns  here." 

"  I  think  so  too,  Eldad,"  sais  I,  "  but  British  legislation  is  at  the 
bottom  of  all  your  misfoUunes,  after  all,  and  though  you  are  as 
lazy  as  sloths,  and  as  idle  as  that  fellow  old  Blowhard  saw,  who  lay 
down  on  the  grass  all  day  to  watch  the  vessels  passing,  and  observe 
the  motion  of  the  crows,  the  English,  by  breaking  up  your  mono- 
poly of  inter-colonial  and  West  India  trade,  and  throwing  it  open 
to  us,  not  only  without  an  equivalent,  but  in  the  face  of  our  pro- 
hibitory duties,  are  the  cause  of  all  your  poverty  and  stagnation. 
They  are  rich,  and  able  to  act  like  fools  if  they  like  in  tiieir  own 
affairs,  but  it  was  a  cruel  thing  to  sacrifice  you,  as  they  have  done, 
and  deprive  you  of  the  only  natural  carrying  trade  and  markets 
you  had.  The  more  I  think  of  it,  the  less  I  blame  you.  It  is  a 
wicked  mockery  to  lock  men  up,  and  then  taunt  them  with  want  of 
tiiterprise,  and  tell  them  they  are  idle." 

"-  Look  at  that  vessel  again.  Sir,"  said  Eldad ;  "  she  don't  mako 
much  headway,  does  she  ?" 

Well,  I  took  the  glass  again  and  examined  her  minutely,  and  I 
never  was  so  stumpt  in  my  life. 

"  Pilot,"  said  I,  "  is  that  the  same  vessel]" 

"  The  identical  "  said  he. 

"  I  vow  to  man,"  sais  I,  "  as  I  am  a  livin'  sinner,  that  is  iieith«r 


TNLOOKINO     ▲     woman's    HBART. 


H 


ion  is  at  the 


ft  ship,  nor  a  brigantine,  nor  a  hermophrodite,  but  a  topnail 
schooner,  that's  a  fact.  What  in  natur'  is  the  meanin'  of  all  this  1 
Perhaps  the  Captain  knows,"  so  I  called  him  again, 

"  Cutler,  that  vessel  is  transmografied  again,"  sJs  I ;  "  look  at 
her." 

"  Pooh,"  said  he,  "  that's  not  the  same  vessel  at  all.     The  two 
first  we  sa  y  are  behind  that  island.     That  one  is  nothing  but  a 

j  coaster,  "i  ou  can't  take  me  in,  Slick.  You  are  always  full  of  yout 
fun,  and  taking  a  rise  out  of  some  one  or  another,  and  I  shall  be 
glad  when  we  land,  you  will  then  have  some  one  else  to  practice 

ion." 

In  a  short  time  the  schooner  vanished,  and  its  place  was  supplied 

[by  a  remarkable  white  cliff,  which  from  the  extraordinary  optical 
delusion  it  occasions,  gives  its  name  to  the  noble  port  which  is  now 
called  Ship  Harbor.  I  have  since  mentioned  this  subject  to  a 
number  of  mariners,  and  have  never  yet  heard  of  a  person  who 

jwas  not  deceived  in  a  similar  manner.  As  we  passed  through  the 
narrows,  we  entered  a  spacious  and  magnificent  basin,  so  com- 
pletely land-locked  that  a  fleet  of  vessels  of  the  largest  size  may 
lay  ihere  unmoved  by  any  wind.     There  is  no  haven  in  America 

[to  be  compared  with  it. 

"  You  are  now  safe,"  said  the  pilot ;  "  it  is  only  twelve  leagues 

jfrora  Halifax,  and  nobody  would  think  of  looking  for  you  here. 

[The  fact  is,  the  nearer  you  hide,  the  safer  you  he." 

*'  Exactly,"  saig  1 ;  "  what  you  seek  you  can't  find,  but  when 

[you  aint  looking  for  a  thing,  you  are  sure  to  stumble  on  it." 

"  \f  you  ever  want  to  run  goods.  Sir,"  said  he,  "  the  closer  you 

I  go  to  the  port,  the  better.  Smuj^lers  aint  all  up  to  this,  so  they 
seldom  approach  the  lion's  den,Tbut  go  farther  and  fare  worse. 
Now  we  may  learn  lessons  from  du'-^H  animals.     They  know  we 

[reason  on  probabilities,  and  therefor.,  always  do  what  is  improba- 

|ble.     We  think  them  to  be  fools,  but  they  know  that  we  are.    The 

jfbx  sees  we  always  look  for  him  about  his  hole,  and  therefore  he 

I  carries  on  his  trade  as  far  from  it,  and  as  near  the  poultry  yard  as 

(possible.  If  a  dog  kills  sheep,  and  them  Newfoundlanders  are 
most  uncommon  fond  of  mutton,  I  must  say,  he  never  attacks  his 
neighbor's  flock,  for  he  knows  he  would  be  suspected  and  had  up 
for  it,  but  sets  off  at  night,  and  makes  a  foray  like  ihe  old  Scotch 

[on  the  distant  borders. 

"  He  washes   himself,  for  marks  of  "jlood   is  a  bad  sign,  and 

{returns  afure  d^y,  and  wags  his  tail,  and  runs  round  his  master, 

[and  looks  up  into  his  face  as  innocent  as  you  please,  as  much  as  to 


—  tviim 


ui  youi    pi  ope r I,  V 


ill   th 


t  is  ueith«r 


pay,  '  Squire,  here  I  have  been  w 

jlive  long  night,  it's  dreadful  lonely  work,  I  do  assure  you,  and  oh, 

ihow  glad  1  am  to  see  the  shine  of  your  face  this  morning.' 

"  And  the  old  boss  pats  his  head,  fairly  too.'.  ;a,  and  says,  '  that's 


lii 


il 


'|:i!: 

♦  :■ 


•  UNLOOKINO    A     WOMAn's     HEART. 

jort'^Kr^ouh'''^''"'' '°""'  '^"^"  ^^"  '^'  ^°"  ^-  -^^^^j* 

"Well,  the  next  time  he  goes  ofTon  a  spree  in  th^,  samequarter 
what  does  he  see  but  a  border  dog  strung  up  by  the  noek.  who  h« 
been  seized  and  eonden.ned,  ..s  many  an  Innocent  fel low 'tms  been 
himTir  1""'."';  ;:'7'f  ^'^"tial  evideneo,  and  he  laughs  and  say.  to 
himself,  'what  k.oIs  humans  be  ;  they  don't  know  half  as  mueh  a. 
we  d..gs  do.'  So  he  thuiks  it  would  be  as  well  to  shift  his  ground 
where  tollcs  am't  on  the  watch  for  sheep-stealers.  and  he  nmkes  a 
dash  Uito  a  flock  still  further  ofl^.  ' 

noliPr'h  Newfj.undlanders  would  puzzle  the  London  detective 
don't  Voif ?'''""  ^^  "'"  ^'*^  ™^''  ^'"^'"'  '"^"^  '''  ^^^  ^^^'^ti^". 
"  Well,  they  are,''  sais  I,  "that's  a  fact,  and  thev  have  all  the 
same  passions  and  feelings  we  hav3,  only 'they  are  more  gr  tetU 
than  man  is,  and  you  can  by  kindness  lay  one  of  them  under  an 
obligation  he  will  never  foi^et  as  long  as  he  lives!  wheeas  an 
obligation  scares  a  man,  for  he  snorts  and  stares  a  Tou  Se  a 
horse  at  an  engine,  and  is  e'en  most  sure  to  up  heels  and  Jet  you 
have  It,  like  mad.     The  only  thing  about  dogs  is,  they  can't  bear 

siVetv'  tw^l^;'l/'  '^^'f  ^'frr  P^'^  ^°  themsVvTs'excr 
siveiy.     I  wdl  tell  you  a  story  I  had  from  a  British  Colonel. 

He  was  stationed  in  Nova  Scotia,  with  his  regiment  when  I 

Wilco/im.    "if '^'^'^^tT    }  ^"^^  ^'-  ^«  VVindSr;  Itth 
Wilcox  Inn.     He  was  mightily  taken  with  my  old  horse  C  ay  and 

ofTered  me  a  moso  an  everlaslin'  long  price  tor  him  •  he  S    f  I 

an  animal  m  all  his  born  days,  and  so  on.     But  old  Clav  was 

ever  will  be.     1  had  n.,  notion  to  sell  him,  and  I  told  him  so  but 
eein'  he  was  dre_adful  disappointed,  /or  a  rich  Englishma    a^Llly 

1  parted  with  him,  he  should  have  him  on  condition  he  would  keen 
him  as  long  as  he  lived,  and  so  on  ^ 

'  C.Z^w  '^  ?''f^,^\^'''^  ^  bi^  and  to  turn  the  conversation  sais  I 
rPof  Newfouni  ?h''.  '  "«^^^  '^  ^'^^ghty  everlastin'  super  sup  ' 
'if  I  had  aT  n  of  '''u'/r''\''  Y''  ^"^  ;  '  creation,  sais^, 
of  the  dev?l  "  I  '  'f ''''''!  ^  ^^^'^"^^  ^  wouldn't  b^  afraid 
I'de'givranytnmg  fbThii'^^'^^  ^  ''' '  ^^^"^^  ^°"  ^^''  ^'^^  ^^^  ^ 
"  1  said  that  a  purpose  to  show  him  I  had  a.  ^ood  a  rif^ht  to 
keep  my  horse  as  he  had  his  long-hair  genth  ^an.  ^  ''^^'  *' 
r^o,    sais  he,  with  a  sort  of  haitlsrpilp  nf  .v,,,  i ,....    • 

want  to  take  h.m  to  J-Jngland  with  me.    See,  he  has  aTl  .1,  mark, 


iRT. 


UNLOCKING     A    W  O  M  A  N    B    HEART, 


4§ 


you  are  worth 

10  same  quarter, 
B  nock,  who  has 
fellow  has  been 
;hs  and  says  to 
uilf  as  much  an 
hift  his  grouHiJ, 
nd  he  makes  a 

ndon  detective 
in  all  creation, 

y  have  all  the 
more  grateful 
hem  under  an 
es,  whereas  an 
at  you  like  a 
s  and  let  you 
liey  can't  bear 
inselves  exclu 
Colonel, 
jiment,  when  I 
indsor,  at  the 
orse  Clay,  and 
I :  he  said  If  I 
never  see  such 
old  Clay  was 
I  don't  think 
d  him  so,  but 
hman  actually 
'Id  him  if  ever 
le  would  keep 

rsation,  sais  I, 
ti' super  supe 
•eation,  sais  1, 
dn*t  be  afraid 
irt  with  him  1 

od  a  right  to 

ignoranec  in 
thinks  he  has 
with  him.  f 
ill  the  marks 


f  the  true  breed  ;  look  at  his  beautiful  broad  forehead,  what  an 
intellectual  one  it  is,  ain't  it?  then  see  his  delicate  mouse-like  ears, 
ust  large  enough  to  cover  the  orifice,  and  that's  all.' 

" '  Orifice,'  said  1,  for  1  hate  fine  words,  for  cc  amon  use,  they 
are  like  go-to  meetin'  clothes  oa  week-days,  onconvenient,  and  look 
too  all  fired  jam  up.  Sais  I,  '  what's  that  when  it's  fried?  1  don't 
know  that  n .ord  V 

" '  Why,  ear-hole,'  said  he. 

" '  Oh,'  sais  I,  simple-like,  '  I  take  now.' 

"  He  smiled  and  went  on.  '  Look  at  the  black  roof  of  his 
mouth,'  said  he,  'and  do  you  see  the  dew-claw,  that  is  a  great 
mark '?  Then  feel  that  tail ;  that  is  his  rudder  to  steer  by  when 
swimming.  It's  different  from  the  tail  of  other  dogs — the  strength 
of  that  joint  is  surprising ;  but  his  chest.  Sir,  his  chest,  see  how 
that  iS  formed  on  purpose  for  diving  !  It  is  shaped  internally  like 
a  seal's,  and  then,  observe  the  spread  of  that  webbed  foot,  and  the 
power  of  them  paddles  !  There  are  two  kinds  of  them,  the  short 
and  the  long-haired,  but  I  think  those  shaggy  ones  are  the  hand- 
somest. They  ore  very  difficult  to  be  got  now  of  the  pure  breed. 
I  sent  to  the  Bay  of  Bulls  for  this  one.  To  have  them  in  health 
you  must  make  them  stay  out  of  doors  in  "^1  weather,  and  keep 
them  cool,  and,  above  all,  not  feed  them  too  higii  Salt  fish  seems 
the  best  food  for  them,  they  are  so  fond  of  it.  S  ^gular  that,  ain't 
it  1  but  a  dog  is  natural.  Sir,  and  a  man  ain't. 

" '  I^ow,  you  never  saw  a  codfish  at  the  table  of  a  Newfoundland 
merchant  in  your  life.  He  thinks  it  smells  too  much  of  the  shop. 
In  ilJc,  in  my  opinion,  the  dog  is  the  only  gentleman  there.  The 
only  one  now  that  the  Indian  is  extinct,  who  has  breeding  and 
blood  in  that  land  of  oil,  blubber,  and  icebergs.' 

"  Lord,  I  wish  one  of  them  had  been  there  to  have  heard  him, 
wouldn't  he  a  harpooned  him  ?  that's  all.  •  He  made  a  oOiisiderable 
of  a  long  yarn  of  it,  and,  as  it  was  a  text  he  had  often  enlarged 
on,  I  thought  he  never  would  have  ended,  but  like  o't  er  preachers 
when  he  got  heated,  spit  on  the  slate,  rub  it  all  out,  and  cypher  it 
over  again.     Think?  I  to  myself,  I'll  play  you  a  bit,  my  boy. 

" '  Exactly,'  sais  ; ;  '  there  is  the  same  difierence  in  dogs  and 
horses  as  there  is  n  men.  Some  are  noble  by  nature,  and  some 
vulgar ;  each  is  knovn  by  his  breed.' 

"  '  True,'  said  he,  '  very  true,'  and  he  stood  up  a  little  straighter, 
as  if  it  did  him  goc  i  to  hear  a  republican  say  that,  for  his  father 
was  an  Earl.  '  A  very  just  remark,'  said  he,  and  he  eyed  me  ill 
over,  as  if  he  was  rather  surprised  at  my  penetration. 

"  '  But  the  worst  of  it,'  sais  I,  '  is  that 


ii  a  niga-ooni 


„  brute,  and  a 

high-bred  man,  are  only  good  for  one  thing.     A  pointer  will  point 

-a  blood-hound  .  an — a  setter  will  set — a  bull-dog  fight — and  a 

Newfoundlander  will  swim;  but  what  else  are  they  good  fori 


(T"!|, 


u 


UNLOOKINO     A     WOMAn's     HKA 


KT. 


i'    fir' 
I.I   11, 


m 


II 


i! 


Now  a  duke  IS  a  duke,  and  the  devil  a  thing  else.     All  you  expect 
of  him  IS  to  act  and  Jock  like  one;  (ruid  I  could  point  out  some 
that  even  don't  even  do  that).     If  he  w-  ites  a  book^  and  1  believe 
a  Scotch  one,  by  the  help  of  his  tutor,  did  once;  or  makes  a 
speech,  you  say,  come  now,  that  is  very  well  for  a  duke,  and  so  on 
Well,  a  maroms  am't  quite  so  h'gh  bred,  and  he  is  a  little  better 
and  so  on,  downwar  s.     When  you  get  to  an  earl,  why,  he  may 
be  good  for  more  thmgs  than  one.     1  ain't  quite  sure  a  cross  ain't 
desirable,  and  m  that  way  that  you  couldn't  improve  the  intelli 
gence  of  both  horses,  noblemen,  and  dogs-don't  you  think  so, 

"  'It  is  natural  for  you,'  said  he,  not  liking  the  smack  of  dem- 
ocracy  that  1  threw  m  for  fun,  and  looking  uneasy.     '  So,'  sais  he 
(by  way  of  turning  the  conversation)  '  the  sagacity  of  dogs  is  very 
wonderful.     I  will  tell  you  an  anecdote  of  this  one  that  has  sur 
prised  everybody  to  whom  I  have  related  it. 

"  '  Last  summer  my  duties  led  me  to  (George's  Island.  I  take  it 
for  granted  you  know  it.  It  is  a  small  island  situated  in  the  centre 
of  he  harbor  of  Halifax,  has  a  powerful  battery  on  it,  and  bar- 
racks for  the  accommodation  of  troops.  There  was  a  company  of 
my  regiment  stationed  there  at  the  time.  I  took  this  dog  and  a 
small  terrier,  called  Tilt,  in  the  boat  with  me.  The  latter  was  a 
very  active  little  fellow  that  the  General  had  given  me  a  few  weeks 
before.  He  was  such  an  amusing  creature,  that  he  soon  became  a 
umversal  fuyoi.te,  and  was  suffered  to  come  into  the  house  (a 
privilege  which  was  never  granted  to  this  gsntleman,  who  paid  no 
regard  to  the  appearance  of  his  coat,  which  was  often  wet  and 
dirty ,)^  and  who  was  therefore  excluded. 

'"The  consequence  was.  Thunder  was  jealous,  and  would  not 
associate  with  him,  and  if  ever  he  took  any  liberty,  he  turned  on 
hina  and  punished  him  severely.  This,  however,  he  never  presumed 
to  do  in  my  presence,  as  he  knew  J  would  not  suffer  it,  and,  there 
tore  when  they  both  accompanied  me  in  my  walks,  the  big  doer 
contented  himself  with  treating  the  other  with  perfect  indifle?ence 
and  contempt.  Upon  this  occasion.  Thunder  lay  down  in  the  boat, 
and  composed  himself  to  sleep,  while  the  little  fellow,  who  was  full 
of  life  and  animation,  and  appeared  as  if  he  did  not  know  what  it 
was  to  close  his  eyes,  sat  up,  looked  over  the  gunwale,  and  seemed 
to  enjoy  the  thing  uncommonly.  He  watched  the  motions  of  the 
men,  as  if  he  understood  what  was  required  of  them,  and  was 
anxious  they  should  acquit  themselves  properly. 

II 'He  knew,'  said  I,  '  it  was  what  sailors  call  the  dog-watch: 
Very  good,  said  he,  but  looking  all  the  time  as  if  he  thought 
tile  interruption  verv  bad. 

"  After  having  niade  my  inspection,  I  returned  to  the  boat  for 
the  purpose  of  recrossing  to  the  town,  when  I  missed  the  terrier. 


UNLOCKING     A    WOMAN's     HEART. 


^ 


I  you  expect 
It  out  some 
id  1  believe 
or  makes  a 
i,  and  so  on. 
little  better 
"hy,  he  may 
a  cross  ain't 
the  Intel li 
u  think  so, 

ick  of  dem- 
So,'  sais  he, 
logs  is  very 
lat  has  sur- 

1.  I  take  it 
n  the  centre 
t,  and  bar- 
company  of 
dog  and  a 
atter  was  a 
L  few  weeks 
n  became  a 
e  house,  (a 
'ho  paid  no 
n  wet  and 

would  not 
i  turned  on 
r  presumed 
and,  there 
he  big  dog 
indifterence 
n  the  boat, 
ho  was  full 
ow  what  it 
md  seemed 
ions  of  the 
1,  and  was 

vatch.^ 

he  thought 

e  boat,  for 
;he  terrier. 


Thunder  was  close  at  my  heels,  and  when  I  whistled  for  the  other, 
wagged  his  tail  and  looked  up  in  my  face,  as  if  ho  would  say.  never 
mind  that  foolish  dog,  I  am  here,  and  that  is  enough,  or  is  there 
anything  you  want  me  to  do  ? 

"  '  After  calling  in.  vain,  I  went  back  to  the  barracks,  and  inquired 
of  the  men  for  Tilt,  but  no  one  appeared  to  have  seen  him,  or 
noticed  his  motions. 

"  After  perambulating  the  little  island  in  vain,  I  happened  to  ask 
*he  sentry  if  he  knew  where  he  was. 

"  '  Yes,  sir,'  said  he,  *  he  is  buried  in  the  beach.' 
"  Buried  in  the  beach,'  said  I,  with  great  anger,  *  who  dared  to 
kill  him]     Tell  me.  Sir,  immediately.' 

"'Th"t  large  dog  did  it.  Sir.  He  enticed  him  down  to  the 
shore,  by  playing  with  him,  pretending  to  crouch,  and  then  run 
after  him  ;  and  then  retreating,  and  coaxing  him  to  chase  him  ;  and 
when  he  got  him  near  the  beach,  he  throttled  him  in  an  instant,  and 
then  scratched  a  hole  in  the  shingle  and  buried  him,  covering  him 
up  with  the  gravel.  After  that,  he  went  into  the  water,  and  with 
his  paws  washed  his  head  and  face,  shook  himself,  and  went  up  to 
the  barracks.     You  will  find  the  terrier  just  down  there,  Sir.' 

"  '  And  sure  enough  there  was  the  poor  little  fellow,  quite  dead, 
and  yet  warm. 

"  '  In  the  meantime.  Thunder,  who  had  watched  our  proceedings 
from  a  distance,  as  soon  as  he  saw  the  body  exhumed,  felt  as  if 
there  was  a  court-martial  holding  over  himself,  plunged  into  the 
harbor,  and  swam  across  to  the  town,  and  hid  himself  for  severd 
days,  until  he  thought  the  affair  had  blown  over;  and  then  ap- 
proached me  anxiously  and  cautiously,  lest  he  should  be  appre- 
hended and  condemned.  As  I  was  unwilling  to  lose  both  of  my 
dogs,  I  was  obliged  to  overlook  it,  and  take  him  back  to  my  confi- 
dence.    A  strange  story,  aint  it,  Mr.  Slick?' 

"  Well,  it  is,'  sais  I,  '  but  dogs  do  certainly  beat  all  natur,  that's 
a  fact.' 

But  to  get  back  to  the  "  Black  Hawk  ; "  as  soon  as  we  anchored, 
I  proposed  to  Cutler  that  we  should  go  ashore  and  visit  the  "  na- 
tives." While  he  was  engaged  giving  his  orders  to  the  mate,  I  took 
the  opportunity  of  inquiring  o(  the  Pilot  about  the  inhabitants. 
This  is  always  a  necessary  precaution.  If  you  require  light-houses, 
buoys,  and  sailing  directions  to  enter  a  port,  you  want  similar 
guides  when  you  land.  The  navigation  there  is  difficult  also,  and 
it's  a  great  thing  to  know  who  you  are  going  to  meet,  what  sort  of 
stuff  they  are  made  of,  and  which  way  to  steer,  so  as  to  avoid 
hidden  shoals  and  sand-bars,  for  every  little  community  is  as  full 

of  thp.m   ns  fhfir  Vinrlmr         Tf:  rinn'f  rln    trrxit   lr.-i^.,r    <-f>  4-nlU  «.^-..  ;.,  tl._ 

—    ,.,j  J,!,.    is.i,.jTt,  lu  t,aiK  LviV   111  i:i8 

house  of  a  radical,  to  name  a  bishop  to  a  puritan,  to  let  out  agin 
Bmugglin'  to  a  man  who  does  a  little  bit  of  business  that  way  hioj. 


*ii 


J 
if-. 


46 


TTNLOOKINQ    A     WOMAN'S    HEAET, 


I 


?l  I! 


self;  or,  as  the  French  say,  "  to  talk  of  a  rope  in  a  house  "where  the 
squatter  has  been  hanged."  If  you  want  to  please  a  guest,  you 
must  have  some  of  his  favorite  dishes  at  dinner  for  him ;  and  if 
you  want  to  talk  agreeably  to  a  man,  you  must  select  topics  he  has 
a  relish  for 

"  So,"  says  I,  "  where  had  we  better  go,  Pilot,  when  we  land  ?" 

"  Do  you  see  that  are  white,  one-story  house  there  ?"  said  he. 
•That  is  a  place,  though  not  an  inn,  where  the  owner,  if  he  is  at 
home,  will  receive  the  likes  of  you  very  hospitably.  He  is  a  capi 
tal  fellow  in  his  way,  but  as  hot  as  pepper.  His  name  is  Peter 
McDonald,  and  he  is  considerable  well  to  do  in  the  worlf..  He  is 
a  Highlander ;  and  when  young  went  out  to  Canada  in  the  employ- 
ment of  the  North-west  Tur  Company,  where  he  sper'^  many  years, 
and  married,  broomstick  fashion,  I  suppose,  a  squaw.  After  her 
death,  he  removed,  with  his  two  half  caste  daughters,  to  St.  John's, 
New  Brunswick  ;  but  his  girls,  I  don't  think,  were  very  Avell  re 
ceived,  on  account  of  their  color,  and  he  came  down  here  and  set 
tied  at  Ship  Harbor,  where  some  of  his  countrymen  are  located. 
He  is  as  proud  as  I,  cifer,  and  so  are  his  galls.  Wheth&r  it  i?  that 
they  have  been  slighted,  and  revenge  it  on  all  the  rest  cf  the  world, 
I  don't  know  ;  or  whether  it  is  Highland  and  Indian  pr'de  mixed,  1 
aint  sartified ;  but  they  carry  their  heads  high,  and  show  a  stiff 
upper  lip,  I  tell  ydu.  I  don't  think  you  will  get  much  talk  out  of 
them,  fur  I  never  could." 

"  Well,  it  don't  follow,"  said  I,  "by  no  manner  of  means,  Eldad, 
because  they  wouldn't  ciiat  to  you,  that  they  wouldn't  open  their 
little  mugs  to  me.  First  and  foremost  recollect,  Mr.  Nickerson, 
you  are  a  married  man,  and  it's  no  use  for  a  gall  to  talk  it  into 
you  ;  and  the",  in  the  next  place,  you  see  you  know  a  plaguey 
sight  more  about  the  shape,  make,  and  build  of  a  craft  like  this, 
than  you  do  about  the  figure-head,  waist,  and  trim  of  a  gall.  You 
arc  a  seaman,  and  I  am  a  landsman  ;  you  know  how  to  bait  your 
hooks  for  fish,  and  I  know  the  sort  of  hackle  women  will  jump  at. 
See  if  I  don't  set  their  clappers  a  going,  like  those  of  a  saw-mill. 
Do  they  speak  English  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  and  they  talk  Gajlic  and  French  also  ;  the  first 
two  they  learned  from  their  father,  and  the  other    l  Canada." 

"  Are  they  pretty  ?" 
^     "The  eldest  is  beautiful,"  said  he;  "and  there  is  something  in 
her  manner  you  can't  help  thinking  she  is  a  lady.     You  never  saw 
such  a  beautiful  figure  as  she  is  in  your  life." 

Thinks  I  to  myself,  "  that's  all  you  know  about  it,  old  boy." 
But  I  didn't  say  so,  for  I  was  thinking  of  Sophy  at  the  time. 

We  then  pushed  of!',  and  steered  for  Peter  McDonald's,  Indian 
Peter,  as  the  Pilot  said  the  fishermen  called  him.  As  we  approached 
the  house  he  came  out  to  meet  us ;  he  was  a  short,  strong-built, 


UNLOCKING    A     WOMAN's     HBABT. 


47 


so  ;  the  firsi 


athletic  man,  <and  his  step  was  as  springy  as  a  boy's.  He  had  a 
jolly,  open,  manly  face,  but  a  quick,  restless  eye,  and  the  general 
expression  of  his  countenance  indicated,  at  once,  good  nature  and 
h-asc.bility  of  temper. 

"  Coot  tay,  shentlemen,"  he  s?id,  "  she  is  glad  to  see  you  ;  come 
walk  into  her  own  house."  He  recognised  and  received  kindly 
Eldad,  who  mentioned  our  names  and  introduced  us,  and  he  wel- 
comed us  cordially.  As  soon  as  we  were  seated,  according  to  the 
custom  of  the  northwest  traders,  he  insisted  upon  our  taking  some- 
thing  to  drink,  and  calling  to  his  daughter  Jessie  in  Gaelic,  he 
desired  her  to  bring  whiskey  and  brandy.  As  I  knew  this  was  a 
request,  that  on  such  an  occasion  could  not  be  declined  without 
offence,  I  accepted  his  offer  with  thanks,  and  no  little  praise  on  the 
virtues  of  whiskey,  tlie  principal  recommendation  of  which,  I  said, 
"  was  that  there  was  not  a  headache  in  a  hogshead  of  it." 

"She  believes  so  herself,"  he  said,  "it  is  petter  ash  all  de  rum, 
prandy,  shin,  and  other  Yanke  pyson  in  the  States;  ta  Yankies 
are  cheatin  smugglin  rascalls." 

The  entrance  of  Jessie  fortunately  gave  a  turn  to  this  compli- 
mentary  remark  ;  when  she  set  down  the  tray,  I  rose  and  extended 
my  hand  to  her,  and  said  in  Gaelic,  "  Cair  rmir  tha  thu  mo  qradh, 
(how  do  you  do  my  dear),  tha  mi'n  dochasgam  biel  thu  slan  (1  hope 
you  are  quite  well)," 

The  girl  was  amazed,  but  no  less  pleased.  How  sweet  to  the 
ear  are  the  accents  of  the  paternal  language,  or  the  mother  tongue 
as  we  call  it,  for  it  is  women  who  teach  us  to  talk.  It  is  a  bond 
of  union !  Whoever  speaks  it,  when  we  are  in  a  land  of  strangers, 
is  regarded  as  a  relative.  I  shall  never  forget  when  I  was  in  the 
bazaar  at  Calcutta,  how  my  heart  leaped  at  hearing  the  voice  of  a 
Connecticut  man  as  he  was  addressing  ?  native  trader. 

"Tell  you  what,  stranger,"  said  he,  "1  feel  as  mad  as  a  meat 
axe,  and  I  hope  I  may  be  darned  to  all  darnation,  if  I  wouldn't 
chaw  up  your  uglv  mummyised  corpse,  hair,  hide  and  hoof,  this 
blessed  minute,  as  quick  as  I  would  mother's  dough-nuts,  if  I  warn't 
afraid  you'd  pyson  me  with  you  atimy,  I'll  be  dod  drotted  if  I 
wouldn't." 

Oh,  how  them  ho  espun  words,  coarse  as  they  were,  cheered 
my  drooping  spirits,  and  the  real  Connecticut  nasal,  twang  with 
which  they  were  uttered  sounded  like  music  to  my  ears ;  how  it 
brought  mj  home  and  far-off  friends  to  my  ears;  how  it  sent  up 
a  tear  of  mingled  joy  and  sadness  to  my  eye. 

i'eter  was  delighted.  He  slapped  me  on  the  back  with  a  hearty 
good  will,  in  a  way  nearly  to  deprive  me  of  my  breath,  welcomed  me 
anew,  and  invited  us  all  to  stay  with  him  whilf,  the.  vpssel  roma-ned 
there.  Jessie  replied  in  Gajfic,  but  so  rapidly  I  could  only  follow 
her  with  great  difficulty,  for  I  had  but  a  smattering  of  it,  though  I 


^ 


FKLOCKING    A     WOMANS    HEART, 


1 

ii^     ' 

■iir    ^ 

•4; 
I:ii 

1  1       ■ 

i     } ' 

I 

1 

!    i 

'■  I 
ii 

( 

.,  1 

understood  it  better  than  I  could  speak  it,  having  acquired  it  in  a 
very  singular  maimer,  as  I  will  tell  you  by  and  bye.  Offering  her 
a  chair,  she  took  it  and  sat  down  after  some  hesitation,  as  if  it  was 
not  her  usual  habit  to  associate  with  her  father's  visitors,  and  we 
were  soon  on  very  sociable  terms.  I  asked  the  name  of  the  trading 
post  in  the  north-west,  where  they  had  resided,  and  delighted  her  by 
informing  her  I  had  onca  been  there  myself  on  business  of  John 
Jacob  Astor's  New  York  Fur  Company,  and  staid  with  the  Gov- 
ornor,  who  was  the  friend  and  patron  of  her  father's.  This  was 
sufficient  to  establish  us  at  once  on  something  liice  the  footing  of 
old  friends.  When  she  withdrew,  Peter  followed  her  out,  proba- 
bly to  give  some  directions  for  our  evening  meal. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  pHot,  "if  you  don't  beat  all !  I  never 
could"  get  a  word  out  of  that  girl,  and  you  have  loosened  her 
tongue  in  iale  right  down  earnest,  that's  a  fact." 

"Eldad,"  sais  I,  "  there  is  two  sorts  of  pilotage,  one  that  enables 
you  to  steer  through  life,  and  another  that  carries  you  safely  along 
a  coast,  and  there  is  this  difference  between  them  :  This  universal 
glove  is  all  alike  in  a  general  way,  and  the  knowledge  that  is  suffi. 
cient  for  one  country  will  do  for  all  the  rest  of  it,  with  some  slight 
variations.     Now,  you  may  be  a  very  good  pilot  on  this  coast,  but 
your  knowledge  is  of  no  use  to  you  on  the  shores  of  England.    A 
land  pilot  is  a  fool  if  he  makes  shipwreck  wherever  he  is,  but  the 
best  of  coast  pilots  when  he  gets  on  a  strange  shore  is  as  helpless 
as  a  child.     Now  a  woman  is  a  woman  all  over  the  world,  whether 
she  speaks  Ga.:ic,  French,  Indian,  or  Chinese ;  there  are  various 
entrances  to  her  heart,  and  if  you  have  experience,  you  have  got  a 
compass  which  will  enable  you  to  steer  through  one  or  the  other  of 
them,  into  the  inner  harbor  of  it.     Now,  Minister  used  to  say  that 
Eve,  in  Hebrew,  meant  talk,  for  providence  gave  her  the  power  of 
chattyfication  on  purpose  to  take  charge  of  that  department.    Clack 
then  you  see  is  natural  to  them,  talk  therefore  to  them  as  tkey  like, 
and  they  will  soon  like  to  talk  to  you.     If  a  woman  was  to  put  a 
Bramah  lock  on  her  heart,  a  skilful  man  would  find  his  way  into  it 
if  he  wanted  to,  I  know.     That  contrivance  is  set  to  a  particular 
word  ;  find  the  letters  that  compose  it,  and  it  opens  at  once.     The 
moment  I  heard  the  Gaslic  I  knew  I  had  discovered  the  cypher— I 
tried  it  an*  succeeded.     Tell  you  what,  pilot,  love  and  skill  laugh  | 
at  locks,  for  them  that  can't  be  opened  can  be  picked.     The  mechanism 
of  the  human  heart,  when  you  thoroughly  understand  it,  is,  like  all  \ 
the  other  works  of  nature,  very  beautiful,  very  wonderful,  but  veri/ 
simple.      When  it  does  not  work  well,  the  fault  is  not  in  the  machinery 
hut  in  the  management.^'* 


RT. 

cquired  it  in  a 

B.  Offering  her 
ion,  as  if  it  was 
.visitors,  and  we 
16  of  the  trading 
lelighted  her  by 
usiness  of  John 
with  the  Gov- 
ler's.  This  was 
}  the  footing  of 
her  out,  proba- 

at  all !  I  never 
a  loosened  her 

)ne  that  enables 
'ou  safely  along 

This  universal 
Ige  that  is  suffi. 
nth  some  slight 
1  this  coast,  but 
)f  England.  A 
'  he  is,  but  the 
i  is  as  helpless 
world,  whether 
re  are  various 
you  have  got  a 
or  the  other  of 
ised  to  sav  that 
!r  the  power  of 
irtment.  Clack 
em  OS  they  like, 

was  to  put  a 
his  way  into  it 

to  a  particular 
J  at  once.     The 

the  cypher— I 
■xnd  skill  laugh 
The  mechanism 
i  it,  is,  like  all 
ierful,  but  very 
I  the  Piachinery 


A    OEITTUB    WITH    A    THOUSAND   VIBTFEQ        49 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A   CRITTUR    WITH    A    THOUSAND    VIRTUES    AND 
^  BUT    ONE  VICE:  ■^ur.cAiMU 

Soon  after  McDonald  had  returned  and  resumed  his  se?i  a  tall 
thm  man,  dressed  in  a  coarse  suit  of  homespun,  entered  the  room 
and  addressing  our  host  familiarly  as  Squire  Peter,  deposited  in 
the  corner  a  fishmg-rod,  and  proceeded  to  disencumber  himself  of  a 
large  salmon-baskefc  apparently  well  filled,  and  also  two  wallet-^ 

"1"^  ,7l.  ^""^  '*®®'"®^  ^"^  ^^''^'^'^  ^'^  ^^othes,  and  the  other,  from 
the  dull  heavy  sound  it  emitted  as  he  threw  it  on  the  floor,  some 
tools  He  was  about  forty  years  of  age.  His  head,  which  was 
singular  y  well  formed,  was  covered  with  a  luxuriant  mass  of 
bushy  black  curls.  His  eyes  were  large,  deep  set,  and  intelligent, 
his  forehead  expansive  and  projecting,  and  his  eyebrows  heavy  and 
shaggy.  When  addressing  Peter  he  raise^  then^  up  in  a  peculiar 
manner  nearly  to  the  centre  of  his  forehead,  and  ^vhen  h/ceased 
they  suddenly  dropped  and  partially  concealed  his  eyes. 

It  was  impossible  not  to  be  attracted  by  a  face,  that  had  two 
such  remarkable  expressions ;  one  of  animation,  amiability,  and 
mtelligence ;  and  the  other  of  total  abstraction.    He  bent  forward 
even  after  he  relieved  himself  of  his  load,  and  his  attitude  and  gait 
suggested  the  idea  of  an  American  land-surveyor,  who  had  been 
accustomed  to  carry  heavy  weights  in  the  forest.     Without  conde- 
scending to  notice  the  party,  further  than  bestowing  on  us  a  cur- 
sory  glance  to  ascertain  whether  he  knew  any  of  us,  he  drew  up  to 
he  chimney  corner  and  placing  the  soles  of  his  boots  perpendicu- 
aiJy  t^  the  fire  (which  soon  indicated  by  the  vapor  arising  from 
them,  that  he  had  been  wading  in  water),  he  asked  in  a  listless 
manner  and  without  waiting  for  replies,  some  unconnected  ques. 
tions  of  the  landlord  :  as,  "  Any  news,  Peter  ?  how  does  the  world 
[use  you?   how  are  the  young  ladies?    how  is  fish  this  season? 
jniackarel  plenty?  any  wrecks  this  year,  Peter,  eh?   any  vessels 
sinking,  and  dead  men  floating;  silks,  satins,  ribbons,  and  gold 
matches  waiting  to  be  picked  up  ?     Glorious  coast  this !  the  har- 
vest  extends  over  the  whole  year,"  and  then  he  drew  nis  hand  ever 
ms  lace  as  if  to  suppress  emotion,  and  immediately  relapsed  into 
silence,  and  stared  moodily  into  the  fire. 
Peter  seenied  to  understand  that  no  answer  was  required,  and 
-       !,.  ...  (     nr,::.,  uUt  uskcd  him  where  ne  nad  come  from  ? 
Where  did  he  come  from  ?  "  said  the  stranger,  who  evidently 
[applied  the  question  to  a  fish  in  his  basket,  and  not  to  himself 


CO      A    CRITTUR     WITH     A    THOUSAND    VIRTUES 


il'H': 


"orig.jally  from  the  lake,  Peter,  where  it  was  spawned,  and 
whither  it  annually  returns.  You  ought  to  understand  that,  Mac, 
tor  you  have  a  head  on  your  shoulders,  and  that  \s  more  than  half 
the  poor  wretches  that  float  ashore  here  from  the  deep  have.  It's 
a  ha.d  life,  my  friend,  going  to  sea,  and  hard  shores  sailors  knock 
against  sometimes,  and  still  harder  hearts  they  often  find  there. 
A  stone  in  the  end  of  a  stocking  is  a  sling  for  a  giant,  and  soon 
puts  an  end  to  their  sufferings ;  a  punishment  for  wearing  gold 
watches,  a  penalty  for  pride.  Jolly  tars,  eh  ?  oh  yes,  very  jolly  ! 
it's  a  jolly  sight,  aint  it,  to  see  two  hundred  half-naked,  mangled, 
and  disfigured  bodies  on  the  beach,  as  I  did  the  other  day  1 "  and 
he  gave  a  shudder  at  the  thought  that  seemed  to  ihake  the  very 
chair  he  sat  on.  "It's  lucky  their  friends  don't  see  them,  and 
know  their  sad  fate.  They  were  lost  at  sea !  that  is  enough  for 
mothers  and  wives  to  hear.  The  cry  for  help,  when  there  is  none 
to  save,  the  shriek  of  despair,  when  no  hope  is  left,  the  half-uttered 
prayer,  the  last  groan,  and  the  last  struggle  of  death,  are  all 
hushed  in  the  storm,  and  weeping  friends  know  not  what  they 
lament." 

After  a  short  pause,  he  continued  : 

"That  sight  has  most  crazed  me.  What  was  it  you  asked? 
Oh,  1  have  it !  you  asked  where  he  came  from  1  From  the  lake, 
Peter,  where  he  was  spawned,  and  where  he  returned,  you  see,  to 
die.  You  were  spawned  on  the  shores  of  one  of  the  bays  of  the 
Highlands  of  Scotland.  Would'i't  you  like  to  return  and  lay 
your  bones  there,  eh  ?  From  earth  you  came,  to  it  you  shall 
return.  Wouldn't  you  like  to  go  back  and  breathe  the  air  of 
childhood   once   more   before  you   die?     Love  of  home,    Pet 


IS 


strong 


It 


er, 


is  an  instinct  of  nature;  but,  alas!  the  world 
is  a  Scotchman's  home— anywhere  that  he  can  make  money. 
Don't  the  mountains  with  their  misty  summits  appear  before  you 
sometimes  in  your  sleep  1  Don't  you  dream  of  their  dark  shad- 
ows and  sunny  spots,  their  heathy  slopes  and  deep,  deep  glens? 
Do  you  see  the  deer  grazing  there,  and  hear  the  bees  hum  merrily 
as  they  return  laden  with  honey,  or  the  grouse  rise  startled,  and 
whirr  away  to  hide  itself  in  its  distant  covert  ?  Do  the  dead  ever 
rise  from  their  graves  and  inhabit  again  the  little  cottage  that  looks 
out  on  the  stormy  sea?  Do  you  become  a  child  once  more,  and 
hear  your  mother's  voice,  as  she  sings  the  little  simple  air  that  lulls 
you  to  sleep,  or  watch  with  aching  eyes  tor  the  returning  boat  that 
brings  your  father,  with  the  shadows  of  evening,  to  his  humble 
home?  And  what  is  the  langnage  of  your  dreams?  not  Eriiilish. 
Irench,  or  Indian,  Peter,  for  they  have  been  learned  for  trade 
or  for  travel,  but  Gaelic,  for  that  was  the  language  of  love.  Had 
you  left  home  early,  Mac,  and  forgotten  its  v/ords  or  its  sounds, 
had  all  trace  of  it  vanished  from  your  memory  as  if  it  had  never 


IBTUE0 

spawned,  and 
:and  that,  Mac, 
laore  than  half 
eep  have.  It's 
s  sailors  knock 
*tcn  find  there, 
jiant,  and  soon 
■  wearing  gold 
es,  very  jolly ! 
iked,  mangled, 
ler  day  1 "  and 
ihake  the  very 
see  them,  and 

is  enough  for 
I  there  is  none 
he  half-uttered 
death,  are  all 
not  what  they 


it  you  asked? 
B^rom  the  lake, 
ed,  you  see,  to 
he  bays  of  the 
cturn  and  lay 
3  it  you  shall 
the  the  air  of 

home,  Peter, 
,s  I  the  world 
make  money, 
ear  before  you 
eir  dark  shad- 
p,  deep  glens? 
s  hum  merrily 
3  startled,  and 

the  dead  ever 
tage  that  looks 
nee  more,  and 
e  air  that  lulls 
'iiing  boat  that 
to  his  humble 
?  not  English, 
•ned  for  trade 
:)f  love.     Had 

or  its  sounds, 
if  it  had  never 


AND    BUT    ONE    VI 


CE, 


51 


been,  still  would  you  have  heard  it,  and  known  it,  and  talked  it  in 
your  dreams  Peter,  It  is  the  voice  of  nature,  and  that  is  the 
voice  of  God  ! ' 

•'She'll  tell  her  what  she  treams  of  sometimes,'  said  McDonald 
«  she  treams  of  ta  mou  /.ain  dew— ta  clear  water  of  life  '  ' 

"I  will  be  bound  you  do,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  and  I  do  if  you 
don  t ;  so,  Peter,  my  boy,  give  me  a  glass  ;  it  will  cheer  my  heart. 

^i  rfee^Xu  ""^  ^^""''  ^""^^^^^  ^"^  ^''^^  '^^"  '"^^  ''^"'^ 

"while  Peter,  who  was  a  good  deal  affected  with  this  reference  to 
his  native  land  was  proceeding  to  comply  with  his  request,  he  re- 
lapsed  into  his  former  state  of  abstraction,  and  when  the  liquor  was 
presented  to  him,  appeared  altogether  to  have  forgotten  that  he  had 
asked  fur  it. 

"  Coine  Toctor,"  said  the  host,  touching  him  on  the  shoulder 

come,  take  a  drop  of  this,  it  will  cheer  you  up  ;  you  seem  a  peg 

too  low  to-day      It's  the  ge.iuine  thing,  it  is  some  the  Governor, 

bir  Colin  Campbell,  gave  me."  ' 

"None  the  better  for  that,  Peter,  none  the  better  for  that-  for 
the  rich  give  out  of  their  abundance,  the  poor  from  their  last  cup 

the  heait  """'^  ^"^  ''  ^^^  ^'^^  ""*'  "'''*'*'"'  ^^^  ''^^^''  ^^^  ^ift  of 

"Indeed  then,  she  is  mistakened,  man.  It  was  the  gift  of  as 
true-hearted  a  Highlander  as  ever  lived.  I  went  to  see  him  lately 
about  a  grant  ot  land.  He  was  engaged  writing  at  the  time,  and 
an  ofhcher  was  standing  by  him  for  orders,  and  sais  he  to  me,  '  my 
good  friend  cou  d  you  call  to-morrow  ?  for  I  am  very  busy  to-day, 
as  you  see.'     Well,  I  answered  him  in  Gaelic  that  the  wind  w^ 

I  ^r  and  I  was  anxious  to  go  home ;  but  if  he  would  be  at  leisure 
next  week  I  would  return  again.     Oh,  I  wish  you  had  seen  him, 

.  Doctor  when  he  heard  his  native  tongue.     He  threw  down  his  pen 
jinnped  »P   ^ke  a  boy,  and  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  shook  it  with 
all  h  s  might      '  Oh,'  said  he,  '  I  haven't  heard  that  for  years:  the 

'sound  of  It  does  my  heart  good.     You  must  come  again  and  see 

Z  "''%?.' i?r'  ^^'  Y'  ^^^'  ^"«'^"^-  ^^hat  can  I  do  for 
rWl  o  Vi     .    ?•  "'  ^  ^^"^  "^^"^^  ^  ^^"t«^  a  S'-aiit  of  two  hun. 

tf.T"  .  V^  ^t^'^'^'S^  t^''  P^^'"-  ^"^  ^'  '^^^  ^  ^in^te  of 
my  nan.e  and  of  Ship  Harbor,  and  the  number  of  my  lot,  and 
^v.ote  underneath  mi  order  for  the  grant.  ' Take  that  to  the  Sur- 
ilSn.  if  t  '  '?'^^'  '  ^"*^  *^^  "^^^  ^'"^^  y<^"  come  to  Halifax  the 
ferlr  "  T^^a''  l'^:  ^^'''  ^'  ^'^"g  ^^«  bell,  and  when  the 
IH  r n  T^:^'  '^"  ''  ^''  '  ^^-P-  ^'  -^-key  and  take 

u  P'f  ^f "  "^^^  ^^^  grant  ?  "  said  the  stranger. 

Indeed  she  did  "  said  Peter,  "  and  when  she  came  to  read  it,  it 
as  for  five  mstead  of  two  hundred  acres." 


62      A     ORITTUE    WITH     A     TH0U8A.ND    VIRTUUB 


Hi 


II 


im' 


iili! 


Good  !"  said  the  other.  *'  Come,  I  like  that.  Fill  me  another 
glass  and  I  will  drink  his  health." 

*'  Well  done,  old  boy  ! "  said  I  to  myself,  "  you  know  how  to 
carry  your  sentimentality  to  market  anyhow.  Doctor,  doctor! 
So  you  are  a  doctor,"  sais  I  to  myself,  "  are  you  1  Well,  there  is 
something  else  in  you  than  dough-pills,  and  salts  and  senna  at  any 
rate,  and  that  is  more  than  most  of  your  craft  have,  at  all  events. 
I'll  draw  you  out  presently,  for  I  never  saw  a  man  with  that  vein 
of  melancholy  in  him,  that  didn't  like  fun,  providin'  his  sadness 
warn't  the  effect  of  disease.  So  here's  at  you ;  I'll  make  the  fun 
start  or  break  a  trace,  1  know." 

Cutler  and  I  had  been  talking  horse  when  he  came  in  ;  a  sort  of 
talk  1  rather  like  myself,  for  I  consait  I  know  a  considerable  some 
about  it,  and  aint  above  getting  a  wrinkle  from  others  when  I  can. 
"  Well,"  sais  I,  '•  capting,  we  was  talking  about  horses  when  the 
doctor  came  in." 

-— -'  Captain,"  said  the  Doctor,  turning  round  to  Cutler,  "  Captain, 
excuse  me.  Sir,  how  did  yoti  reach  the  shore  1" 

"  In  the  boat,"  said  Cutler. 

"Ah!"  said  the  other  with  animation,  "was  all  the  crew 
saved]" 

"  We  were  in  no  danger  whatever,  Sir  ;  my  vessel  is  ftt  anchor  in 
the  harbor." 

"Ah."  replied  the  Doctor,  "that's  fortunate,  very  fortunate;" 
and  turned  again  to  the  fire,  with  an  air,  as  I  thought  of  disappoint- 
ment, as  if  he  had  expected  a  taie  of  horror  to  excite  him. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  the  Captain,  "  let  us  hear  your  story 
about  the  horse  that  had  a  thousand  virtues  and  only  ofie  vice.'''' 

At  the  sound  of  my  name,  the  stranger  gave  a  sudden  start  and 
gazed  steadily  at  me,  his  eyebrows  raised  in  the  extraordinary 
manner  that  1  have  described,  something  like  the  festoon  of  a  cur- 
tain, and  a  smile  playing  on  his  face  as  if  expecting  a  joke  and 
ready  to  enter  into  it,  and  enjoy  it.  All  this  I  observed  out  of  the 
corner  of  my  eye,  without  appearing  to  regard  him,  or  notice  his 
scrutiny. 

Sais  I,  "  when  I  had  my  tea-store  in  Boston,  I  owned  the  fastesi 
trotting-horse  in  the  United  States  ;  he  was  a  sneezer,  I  tell  you, 
I  called  him  Mandarin — a  very  appropriate  name,  you  see,  for  my 
business.  It  was  very  important  for  me  to  attract  attention.  In- 
deed, you  must  do  it,  you  know,  in  our  great  cities,  or  you  are  run 
right  over,  and  crushed  by  engines  of  more  power.  Whose  horse 
is  that"?  Mr.  Slick's,  the  great  tea-merchant.  That's  the  great 
Mandarin,  the  fastest  beast  in  all  creation — refused  five  thousand 
dollars  for  him,  aad  so  on.  Every  wrapper  I  had  for  my  tea  had» 
print  of  him  on  it.  It  was  action  and  reaction,  you  see.  W  " 
this  horse  had  a  very  serious  fault  that  diminished  his  value  in  mj| 


^  I R  T  u  i:  B 


AND    BUT    ONE    VICE, 


53 


Fill  me  another 


/Utler, "  Captain, 


,s   all  the  crew 
el  is  ftt  anchor  in  i 


eyes  down  to  a  hundred  dollars,  as  far  as  use  and  comfort  went. 
Nothing  in  the  world  could  ever  induce  him  to  cross  a  bridge. 
Ho  had  fallen  through  one  when  he  was  a  colt,  and  got  so  allfired 
frightened  he  never  forgot  it  afterwards.  He  would  stop,  rear,  run 
back,  plunge,  and  finally  kick  if  you  punished  him  too  hard,  and 
smash  your  wagon  to  pieces,  but  cross  he  never  would.  Nobody 
knew  this  but  me,  and  of  course  I  warn't  such  a  fool  as  to  blow 
upon  my  own  beast.  At  last  I  grew  tired  of  him  and  determined 
to  sell  him  ;  but  as  I  am  a  man  that  always  adheres  to  the  truth  in 
my  horse-trades,  the  difficulty  was,  how  to  sell  him  and  not  lose  by 
him.  Well,  I  had  to  go  to  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  on  busi- 
ness, and  I  took  the  chance  to  get  rid  of  Mr.  Mandarin,  and  adver- 
tised him  for  sale.     I  worded  the  notice  this  way  : 

" '  A  gentlemen,  being  desirous  of  quitting  Boston  on  urgent 
business  for  a  time,  will  dispose  of  a  first-rate  horse,  that  he  is 
obliged  to  leave  behind  him.  None  need  apply  but  those  willing 
to  give  a  long  price.  The  animal  may  be  seen  at  Deacon  Seth's 
livery  stables.' 

"  Well,  it  was  soon  known  that  Mandarin  was  for  sale,  and  sev- 
eral persons  came  to  know  the  lowest  figure.  'Four  thousand 
dollars,'  said  I,  '  and  if  I  didn't  want  to  leave  Boston  in  a  hurry, 
six  would  be  the  price.' 

"  At  last  young  Mr.  Parker,  the  banker's  son  from  Bethany, 
called  and  said  e  wouldn't  stand  for  the  price,  seeing  that  a  hun- 
dred dollars  was  no  more  than  a  cord  of  wood  in  his  pocket.  (Good 
gracious,  how  the  Doctor  laughed  at  that  phrase  !)  but  would  like 
to  inquire  a  little  about  the  critter,  confidential  like. 

" '  I  will  answer  any  questions  you  ask,'  I  said,  candidly. 

*' '  Is  he  sound  V 

" '  Sound  as  a  new  hackmetack  trenail.  Drive  it  all  day,  and 
you  can't  broom  it  one  mite  or  moi-sel.' 

" '  Good  in  harness  V 

" 'Excellent.     Can  do  his  mile  in  two  fifteen.     He  has  done  it.' 

" '  Now  between  man  and  man,'  sais  he,  '  what  is  your  reason 
for  selling  the  horse.  Slick  ?  for  you  are  not  so  soft  as  to  be  tempted 
by  price  out  of  a  first  chop  article  like  that.' 

"  '  Well,  candidly,'  sais  I,  'for  I  am  like  a  cow's  tail,  straight  up 
and  down  in  my  dealins,  and  ambition  the  clean  thing.' " 

"  Straight  up  and  down  !"  said  the  Doctor  aloud  to  himself; 
"straight  up  and  down  like  a  cow's  tail.  Oh  Jupiter  !  what  a 
simile !  and  yet  it  aint  bad,  for  one  end  is  sure  to  be  in  the  dirt. 
A  man  may  be  the  straight  thing,  that  is,  right  up  and  down  like  a 
cow's  tail,  but  hang  me  if  he  can  be  the  clean  thinor  anvhow  he  can 
fix  it."  And  he  stretched  out  his  feet  to  their  full  length,  puf  nis 
hands  in  his  trowsers  pockets,  held  down  his  head,  and  clucked 
like  a  hen  that  is  calling  her  chickens.     I  vum  I  could  hardly  help 


I 


li 

ffi  ,811! ' 


§■ 


54      A     CRITTUB     WITH     A     THOUSAND     VIRTUES 

bustin'  3ut  a  larfin  myself,  for  it  warn't  a  slow  remark  of  hisln, 
and  sh(»wed  fun ;  in  fact,  I  was  sure  at  first  he  was  a  droll  boy. 

"  Well,  as  I  was  a  sayin*  "  sais  I  to  Mr.  Parker,  'candidly,  now, 
my  only  reason  for  partin'  with  that  are  horse  is,  that  I  want  to  go 
away  in  a  hurry  out  of  Boston,  clear  down  to  Charleston,  South 
Carolina,  and  as  1  can't  take  him  with  me,  1  prefer  to  sell  him.' 

" '  Well,'  sais  he,  '  the  beast  is  mine,  and  here  is  a  check  for 
your  money.' 

'"  Well,'  sais  I,  'Parker,  take  care  of  him,  for  you  have  got  a 
fust  rate  critter.  He  is  all  sorts  of  a  horse,  and  one  that  is  all  I 
have  told  you,  and  more  too,  and  no  mistake.' 

"  Every  man  that  buys  a  new  horse  in  a  general  way,  is  in  a 
great  hurry  to  try  him.  There  is  r-umthin'  very  takin'  in  a  new 
thing.  A  new  watch,  a  new  coat,  no,  I  reckon  it's  best  to  except  a 
new  spic  and  span  coat  (for  it's  too  glossy,  and  it  don't  set  easy, 
till  it's  worn  awhile,  and  perhaps  I  might  say  a  new  saddle,  for  it 
looks  as  if  you  warn't  used  to  ridin',  except  when  you  went  to 
Meetin'  of  a  Sabbaday,  and  kept  it  covered  all  the  week,  as  a  gall 
does  her  bonnet,  to  save  it  from  the  flies ;)  but  a  ne"  ^  wagon,  a 
new  sleigh,  a  new  house,  and  above  all,  a  new  wife,  has  great 
attractions.  Still  you  get  tired  of  them  all  in  ti  short  while ;  you 
soon  yc  -  he  hour  instead  of  pullin'  out  the  watch  for  everlastin'. 
The  wagon  loses  its  novjlty,  and  c(  does  the  sleigh,  and  the  house 
is  surpassed  next  month  by  a  larger  and  finer  one,  and  as  you  can't 
carry  it  about  to  show  folks,  you  soon  find  it  is  too  expensive  to 
invite  them  to  (  ,.ne  and  admire  it.  But  the  wife;  oh.  Lord!  In 
a  general  way,  there  ain't  more  difference  between  a  grub  and  a 
butterfly,  than  between  a  sweetheart  and  wife.  Yet  the  grub  and 
the  butterfly  is  the  same  thing,  only  differently  rigged  out,  and  so 
is  the  sweetheart  and  wife.  Both  critters  crawl  about  the  house, 
and  aint  very  attractive  to  look  at,  and  both  turn  out  so  fine,  and 
so  painted  when  thr-y  go  abroad,  you  don't  scarcely  know  them 
agin.  Both,  too,  when  they  get  out  of  doors,  seem  to  have  no 
other  airthly  object  but  to  show  themselves.  They  don't  go 
straight  tliere,  and  back  again,  as  if  there  was  an  end  in  view,  but 
they  first  flaunt  to  the  right,  and  then  to  the  left,  and  then  every- 
where in  general  and  yet  nowhere  in  particular.  To  be  seen  and 
admired  is  the  object  of  both.  They  are  all  finery,  and  that  is  so 
in  their  way  they  can  neither  sit,  walk  nor  stand  conveniently  in  it. 
They  are  never  happy,  but  when  on  the  wing." 

"  Oh,  Lord  !"  said  the  Doctor  to  himself,  who  seemed  to  think 
aloud  ;  "  I  wonder  if  that  is  a  picture  or  a  caricature  ?" 

Thinks  I,  "  old  boy,  you  are  sold.  I  said  that  a  purpose  to  find 
yoil  out,  for  1  am  too  fond  of  feminine  gender  to  make  fun  of  them. 
You  are  a  single  man.  If  you  was  married,  I  guess  you  wouldn't 
ask  that  are  question." 


,JWt 


STUES 


AND    BUT    ONE     VICE. 


6ft 


But  T  went  on.  *'  Now  a  horse  is  different,  you  never  get  tired 
of  ii  good  one.  IIo.  don't  fizzle  out*  like  the  rest.  You  like  him 
better  and  Ixttcr  every  djiy.  lla  seems  a  part  of  yourself;  he  is 
your  better  haf,  ;our  '  huUe,-  hegu  as  I  heard  a  cockney  once  call 
hi:)  fa  ;ey  gal) 

" 'Jhis  bein'  the  case,  as  I  was  a  say'n,'  as  soon  as  a  man  gits  a 
new  one,  he  wants  to  try  him.  So  . 'arker  puts  Mandarin  into 
harness,  and  drives  away  like  wink  for  Salem,  but  when  he  came 
to  the  bridge,  the  old  coon  stopt,  put  forward  his  ears,  snorted, 
champed  his  bit,  and  stamped  his  fore  feet.  First  Parker  coaxed 
him,  but  that  did  no  good,  and  then  he  gave  him  the  whip,  and  he 
reared  straight  up  on  end,  and  nearly  fell  over  into  his  wagon.  A 
man  that  was  crossing  over  at  the  time,  took  him  by  the  head  to 
lead  him,  when  he  suddenly  wheeled  half  round,  threw  him  in  the 
mud,  and  dnigged  him  in  the  gutter,  as  he  backed  up  agin  the  side 
walk  all  standin'.  Parker  then  laid  on  the  whip,  hot  and  heavy  ; 
he  gave  him  a  most  righteous  lickin'.  Mandarin  returned  blow  for 
blow,  until  he  ki':ked  the  wagon  all  to  flinders. 

"  Well,  1  must  say  that  for  his  new  owner,  he  was  a  plucky  fel- 
low,  as  well  as  Mandarin,  and  warn't  agoin'  to  cave  in  that  way. 
£a  he  takes  him  back  to  the  livery  stables,  and  puts  him  into 
another  carriage,  and  off  he  sta^  igin,  and  thinkin'  that  the  horse 
had  seen  or  smelt  sumthen  at  ti.at  bridge  to  scare  him,  he  tries 
another,  when  the  same  scene  was  acted  over  again,  only  he  was 
throwed  out,  and  had  his  clothes  nearly  tore  off.  Well,  that  after- 
noon,  up  comes  Parker  to  me,  choking  with  rage. 

" '  Slick,'  said  he,  '  that  is  the  greatest  devil  of  a  horse  I  ever 
see.  He  has  dashed  two  carriages  all  to  shivereens,  and  nearly 
tuckard  the  innerds  out  of  me  and  another  man.  I  don't  think  you 
have  acted  houestly  by  me.' 

"  '  Parker,'  said  f,  '  don't  you  use  words  that  you  don't  know  the 
meanin'  of,  and  for  goodness  gracious  sake  don't  come  to  me  to 
teach  you  manners,  I  beseech  you,  for  I  am  a  rough  schoolmaster, 
I  tell  you.  I  answered  every  ^uestion  you  asked  me,  candidlv,' 
fair  and  square,  and  above  board.' 

"  '  Didn't  you  know,'  said  he,  '  that  no  living  man  could  git  that 
horse  across  a  bridge,  let  him  do  .^is  darndest  V 

" '  I  did,'  said  I,  '  know  it  to  my  cost,  for  he  nearly  killed  me  in 
a  fight  we  had  at  the  Salem  Pike.' 

^  "  ♦  How  could  you,  then,  tell  me.  Sir,  your  sole  reason  for  pa.  . 
ing  with  him  was,  that  you  wanted  to  leave  Boston  and  go  to 
Charleston  V 

'"Because,  Sir,' I  replied,  'it  wa;-  the  literal  truth.  Boston, 
you  know  as  well  as  I  do,  is  almost  ..n  island,  and  go  which  way 


*  Fizzle  out — To  prove  a  failure. 


56      A     ORITTUR     WITH     A     THOUSAND     riRTIJES 


|ll» 


\4 


you  will,  you  must  cross  a  bridge  to  j^et  out  of  it.  I  said  I  wanted 
^3  quit  tho  city,  and  was  compelled  to  leave  my  horse  behind. 
How  could  I  ever  quit  the  place  with  that  tormented  beast  /  And 
warn't  I  compelled  to  leave  him  when  old  Scratch  himscif  couldn't 
make  him  obey  orders  ?  If  I  had  a  waited  to  leave  town,  till  he 
would  cross  a  bridge,  I  should  have  had  to  have  waited  till  dooms- 
day.' 

"  fie  scratched  his  head,  and  looked  foolish.  '  What  a  devil  of 
a  sell,'  said  he.  'That  will  be  a  standing  joke  agin  me  as  long  as 
I  live." 

"  '  I  don't  see  that,'  said  I :  '  if  you  had  been  deceived,  you  might 
have  called  it  a  sell,  but  you  bought  him  with  your  eyes  and  ears 
open,  and  a  full  knowledge  of  the  truth.  And,  after  all,  where 
will  you  go  to  better  yourself?  for  the  most  that  can  be  said  is, 
you  have  got  a  crittur  with  a  thousand  virt%ies  and  but  one  vice.'' 

"'Oh,  get  out!'  said  he,  'and  let  me  alone,'  And  he  walked 
off,  and  looked  as  sheepish  as  you  please." 

"Oh  dear  !"  said  the  Doctor;  "oh  dear!"  And  he  placed  his 
hands  on  his  ribs,  and  walked  round  the  I'oom  in  a  bent  position, 
like  a  man  affected  with  colic,  and  laughed  as  if  he  was  hysterical, 
saying,  "  oh  dear  !  Oh,  Mr.  Slick,  that's  a  capital  story.  Oh,  you 
would  make  a  new  man  of  me  soon,  I  am  sure  you  would,  if  I 
was  any  time  with  you.  I  haven't  laughed  before  that  way  for 
many  a  long  day.  Oh,  it  does  me  ^.>od  !  Tuere  is  nothing  like 
fun,  is  there  ?  -aven't  any  myself,  but  I  do  like  it  in  others. 
Oh,  we  need  it.  We  need  all  the  counterweights  we  can  muster 
to  balance  the  sad  relations  of  life.  Ood  has  made  sunny  spots  in 
the  heart ;  why  should  we  exclude  the  light  Jrom  them  P 

"  Stick  a  pin  in  that.  Doctor,"  sais  I,  "  for  it's  worth  remem- 
berin'  as  a  wise  saw." 

He  then  took  up  his  wallet,  and  retired  to  his  room  to  change 
his  clothes,  saying  to  himself,  in  an  under  tone,  "Stick  a  pin  in  it! 
What  a  queer  phrase  ;  and  yet  it's  expressive,  too.  It's  the  way 
I  preserve  my  insects." 

The  foregoing  conversation  had  scarcely  terminated,  when  Peter's 
daughters  commenced  their  preparation  ibi  the  evening  meal.  And 
I  confess  I  was  never  more  surprised  than  at  the  appeai-ance  of  the 
elder  one,  Jessie.  In  form  and  beauty,  she  far  exceeded  the  Pilct'8 
high  encomiums.  She  was  taller  than  American  women  generally 
are  ;  but  she  was  so  admirably  proportioned,  and  well  developed, 
you  were  not  aware  of  her  height,  till  you  saw  her  standing  neai 
her  sister.  Iler  motions  were  all  quiet,  natural,  and  graceful,  and 
thp.re  was  an  air  about  her  that  nothinir  but  '.he  native  ease  of  » 
child  of  the  forest  or  high-bred  elegance  of  fashionable  life  can  ever 
impart.  She  had  the  delicate  hands,  and  small  feet,  peculiar  to 
Indian  women.      Her  hair  was  of  the  darkest    and  deepest  jet, 


AND     BCT    ONK     VIOB. 


67 


hnt  a  devil  of 


orth  rem  em- 


but  not  so  coai  sf)  as  that  of  the  aborigines  ;  whils".  her  large  black 
eyes  were  oval  in  shape,  liquid,  shadod  by  long  laohts,  and  over- 
arched by  delicately-penclltd  brows.  Ifcr  neck  was  long,  but  full, 
and  her  shoulders  would  have  been  the  envy  of  a  London  balll 
room.     She  was  a  perfect  model  of  a  woman. 

it  is  true  she  had  had  the  advantage,  when  young,  of  being  the 
companion  of  the  children  of  the  Governor  of  the  fort,  and  had 
been  petted,  partially  educated,  and  patronized  by  his  wife.  But 
ncMthcr  h  -  nor  his  lady  could  have  imparted  w^  c  it  is  probable 
neither  possessed,  much  polish  of  m;  mer,  or  retmement  of  mind. 
We  hear  of  nature's  noblemen,  bu  that  means  rather  manly, 
generous,  brave  fellows,  than  polished  men.  There  are,  however' 
splendid  specimens  of  men,  -nd  beautiful  looking  women,  among 
the  aborigines.  Extremes  et ;  and  it  is  certain  that  the  ease 
and  grace  of  highly  civilized  life,  do  not  surpass  those  of  untu- 
tored nature,  that  neither  concedes,  nor  claims  a  superiority  to 
oth'^rs.  She  was  altogether  of  a  different  stamp  from  her  sister, 
whov>as  a  common-lookii,^;,  person,  and  resembled  the  ordinary 
females  to  be  found  in  sa^^age  life.  Stout,  strong,  and  rather 
stolid,  a.nistomed  to  drudge  and  to  obey,  rather  than  to  be  petted 
and  rule  ;  to  receive,  and  not  to  give  orders,  and  to  submit  from 
habit  and  choice.  One  seemed  far  above,  and  the  other  as  much 
below,  the  station  of  their  father.  Jessie,  though  reserved,  would 
converse  if  addressed ;  the  other  rather  shunned  conversation  as 
much  as  possible. 

Both  father  and  uaughters  seemed  mutually  attached  to  each 
other,  and  their  conversation  was  carried  on  with  equal  facility  in 
Indian,  French,  Gaelic,  and  English,  although  Peter  spoke  the  last 
some-hat  inditferently.  In  the  evening  a  young  man,  of  the  name 
of  Eraser,  with  his  two  sisters,  children  of  a  Highland  neighbor, 
came  in  to  visit  the  McDonalds,  and  Peter,  producing  his  violin, 
we  danced  jigs  and  reels,  in  a  manner  and  with  a  spirit  not  often 
seen  but  in  Ireland  or  Scotland.  The  Doctor,  unable  to  withstand 
the  general  excitement,  joined  in  the  dances,  with  as  much  anima- 
tion as  any  of  us,  and  seem.ed  to  enjoy  himself  amazingly. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  patting  me  on  the  shoulder,  "  this  is 
tue  true  philoLophy  of  life.  But  how  is  it  with  your  disposition 
for  fun,  into  which  you  enter  with  all  your  heart,  that  you  have 
such  a  store  of 'wise  s^ws.'  How  in  the  world  did  you  ever 
acquire  them  1  for  your  time  seems  to  have  been  spent  more  in 
the  active  pursuits  of  life  than  in  meditation.  Excuse  me,  I 
neither  undervalue  your  talent  nor  power  of  observation,  but  the 
union  does  not  seem  quite  natural,  it  is  so  much  out  of  the  usu  '. 


cou 


ibO  Ol 


<( 


iS. 


Well,"  sais  I,  »  Doctor.  ^ 

accidentally  falling  from  a  banlc  into  a 


know  that  a  rock. 


you  have  been  enough  in  the  woods  to 

brook,  ot 


¥ 


58      A     CKITTUR     WITH     A     THOUSAND     VIRTUES 


k 


'  'I 


1 

i 

if  ''1 

1 

i 

1 

ji'  ,*, 


„.h 

ji 

i- 

ii 

'ti 

'! 

1 

iL  : 

V 

a  drift-log  catching  cross  ways  of  the  stream,  will  often  change  its 
whole  course,  and  give  it  a  diiferent  direction  ;  haven't  you  1  Don't 
you  know  that  the  smallest,  and  most  trivial  event,  often  contains 
coloring  matter  cDough  in  it  to  change  the  whole  complexion  of 
our  lil'c  i  Fur  inslanei',  one  Saturday,  iiot  long  before  I  left  school, 
and  when  1  was  a  considerable  junk  of  a  boy,  father  gave  me  leave 
to  go  and  spend  the  day  with  Eb  Snell,  the  son  of  our  neighbor, 
old  Colonel  Jephnny  Snell.  We  amused  oursel-es  catching  trout 
\n  the  niill-pond,  and  shooting  king-fishers,  abo  the  hardest  bird 
there  is  to  kill  in  all  creation  ;  and,  between  >ne  and  the  other 
sport,  you  may  depend  we  enjoyed  ourselves  lirst-rate.  Towards 
evenin',  I  heard  a  most  an  awful  yell,  and  looked  round,  and  there 
was  Eb  shoutin'  and  sereamin'  at  the  tip  cend  of  his  voice,  and  a 
jumpin'  up  and  down,  as  if  he  had  been  bit  by  a  rattlesnake. 

" '  What  in  natur  is  the  matter  of  you,  Eb,'  sais  I.  '  What  are  you 
a  makin'  such  an  everlastin'  touss  about  1 '  But  the  more  I  asked, 
the  niore  he  wouldn't  answer.  At  last,  1  thought  1  saw  a  splash  in 
the  water,  as  if  somebody  was  making  a  desperate  splurging  there, 
and  I  pulled  for  it,  and  raced  to  where  he  was  in  no  time,  and  sure 
enough  there  was  his  little  brother,  Zeb,  just  a  sinkin'  out  of  sight. 
So  1  makes  a"  spring  in  after  him  in  no  time,  caught  him  by  the 
hair  of  his  head,  just  as  he  was  vamosing,  and  swam  ashore  with 
him.  The  bull-rushes  and  long  water-grass  was  considerable  thick 
there,  nnd  once  '  iwice  I  thought  in  my  soul  I  should  have  to  let 
go  my  hold  of  i  child,  and  leave  him  to  save  my  own  life,  my 
feet  got  so  tangled  in  it ;  but  I  stuck  to  it  like  a  good  fellow, 
and  worked  my  passage  out  with  the  youngster. 

"  Just  then,  down  came  the  women  folk  aiid  all  the  fomily  of 
the  Snells,  and  the  old  woman  made  rijrht  at  me,  as  cross  as  a 
bear  that  has  cubs,  she  looked  like  a  perfect  fury. 

'"You  good-for-nothin'  young  scallowag,'  said  she,  'is  that  the 
way  you  take  care  of  that  poor  dear  little  boy,  to  let  him  fall  into 
the  pond,  and  get  half  drowned  1 ' 

"  And  she  up  and  boxed  my  ears  right  and  left,  till  sparks  came 
out  of  7ny  eyes  like  a  blacksmith's  chimney,  and  iny  hat,  which 
was  all  soft  with  water,  got  the  crown  knocked  in,  in  the  scuffle, 
and  was  as  flat  as  a  pancake. 

"  '  ^V hat's  all  this,'  sais  Colonel  Jephunny,  who  came  runnin' 
out  of  the  mill.     '  Eb,"  sais  he,  '  what's  all  this  ?  ' 

"Well,  the  critter  was  so  frightened  he  couldn't  do  nothin',  but 
jump  up  and  down,  nor  say  a  word,  but  '  Sam,  Sam  I ' 

"  So  the  old  man  seizes  a  stick,  and  catchm'  one  of  my  hands  in 
his,  turned  to,  and  gave  me  a  most  an  awful  hidin'.  He  cut  me 
into  ribbons  u'most. 

"  '  Til  teach  you,'  he  said,  '  you  villain,  to  throw  a  child  into  the 
water  arter  that  fashin.*     And  he  turned  to,  and  at  it  agin,  rs  hard 


AND     BUT     ONE     VICE. 


59 


as  he  could  lay  on.  I  believe  in  my  soul  he  would  have  nearly 
k.  ed  rne,  if  ,t  hadn't  a  been  for  a  great  big  nigger  wench  he  had. 
called  Iu.so.  My  !  what  a  slushin'  large  wommi  that  was;  half 
horse,  halt  alligator,  with  a  cro.^s  of  the  mammoth  in  her  She 
wore  a  man  s  hat  and  jacket,  and  her  petticoat  had  stuff  enough  in 
It  to  make  the  mainsail  of  a  boat.  Her  foot  was  as  long  and  as 
hat  as  a  snow-shoe,  and  her  hands  looked  as  shapeless  and  as  hard 
as  two  large  sponges  froze  solid.  Her  neck  was  as  thick  as  a 
bull  s,  and  her  scalp  was  large  and  woolly  enough  for  a  door-irat 
bhe  was  as  strong  as  a  moose,  and  as  ugly  too;  and  her  great 
white  pointed  teeth  was  a  caution  to  a  shark. 

"  '  IIullo,'  sais  she,  '  here's  the  devil  to  pay,  and  no  pitch  hot. 
Are  you  agom  to  kill  that  boy,  massa?"  and  she  seized  hold  of 
me  and  took  me  away  from  him,  and  caught  me  up  in  her  arms  as 
easy  as  it  I  was  a  doll. 

"'Here's  a  pretty  hurrahs  nest,' sais  she,  'let  me  see  one  of  you 
dare  to  lay  hmds  on  this  brave  pickininny.  He  is  more  of  a  man 
than  the  whole  bi.m'  of  you  put  together.  My  poor  child,'  said 
she,  they  have  used  you  seaiidalous,  ridiculous,'  and  she  held 
down  her  nasty  oily  shiny  iace  and  kissed  me,  till  she  nearly 
smothered  me,  Oh,  Docto.,  1  shall  never  fo.get  that  scene  the 
longest  day  I  ever  live.  She  might  a  been  Rose  by  name,  but  she 
warnt  one  by  nature,  I  tell  you.  When  niggers  get  their  dander 
raised,  and  their  ekenezer  fairly  up,  they  ain't  otter  of  roses,  that's 
a  fact ;  whatever  Mrs.  Stowe  may  say.  Oh,  I  kicked  and  yelled 
and  coughed  like  anything. 

"  'Poor  dear  boy,  she  said",  '  Rose  ain't  a  goin'  to  hurt  her  own 
brave  child,  not  she,  and  she  kissed  me  again,  and  again,  till  I 
thoMght  I  should  have  fainted.  She  actually  took  away  my  breath, 
tome,  said  she,  and  she  set  me  down  on  my  feet.  '  Come  to 
the  house,  till  1  put  some  dry  ciothes  on  you,  and  I'll  make  some 
lasses  candy  for  you  with  my  own  hands!'  But  as  soon  as  I 
touched  hmu,  I  streaked  ofl'for  home,  as  hard  as  I  could  lay  legs  to 
the  ground;  but  the  perfume  of  old  Rose  set  me  a  sneezing  so,  I 
fairly  blew  up  the  dust  in  the  road,  as  I  went,  as  if  a  bull  had  been 
pawin  of  It,  and  left  a  ^-reat  wet  streak  behind  me  as  if  a  watering 
pot  had  passed  that  way.  Who  should  I  meet  when  1  returned 
^>ut  mother  standin'  at  the  door.  * 

said  she,  'what  under  the  sun  is  the  matter] 


Wl: 


■\W>    t  .  """'         """■"     "ii<ac:i     LUC     OUll     IS    Hits    lUai: 

VV  hat  a  spot  of  work  %     Where  in  the  world  have  you  been  ? ' 

"Mn  the  mill  pond,' said  I. 

"'In  the  mill  pond,'  said  she,  slowly  ;  'and  ruinated  that  beau- 
tiUil  new  coat,  1  made  out  of  your  father's  old  one,  and  turned  so 
nice  y  for  you.  You  are  more  trouble  to  me  than  all  the  rest  of 
the  bo)s  put  together.     Go  right  off  to  your  room  this  blessed 


m 


i 


3*" 


'!l,iil!l 


60      AORITTUR     WITH     A     THOUSAND     VIRTUES 

instant  minite,  and  go  to  bed  and  say  your  prayers,  and  render 
thanks  for  savin'  your  clothes,  if  you  did  lose  your  life.' 

" '  1  wish  1  had  lost  my  life,'  said  I. 

"'Wish  you  had  lost  your  life  1'  said  she.  '  Why  you  mise- 
rable, unsarcumsised,  unjustified,  graceless  boy.  Why  do  you 
wish  you  had  lost  your  life? ' 

" '  Phew,'  said  1,  '  was  you  ever  kissed  by  a  nigger  ?  because,  if 
you  was,  1  guess  you  wouldn't  have  asked  that  are  question,'  and 
I  sneezed  so  hard  I  actually  blew  down  the  'vire  cage,  the  door 
flew  open,  and  the  cat  made  a  spring  like  wink  and  killed  the 
canary  bird. 

"Sam,  Sam,'  said  she,  ('skat,  skat,  you  nasty  devil,  you— you 
have  got  the  knary,  I  do  declare.)  Sam  !  Sam  !  to  think  I  should 
have  lived  to  hear  you  ask  your  mother  if  she  had  ever  been  kissed 
by  a  nigger !'  and  she  began  to  boohoo  right  out.  '  I  do  believe 
in  my  soul  you  are  drunk,  Sam,'  said  she. 

"  '  1  shouldn't  wonder  if  I  was,'  said  I,  '  for  I  have  drunk  enough 
to-day  to  serve  a  cow  and  a  calf  for  a  week.' 

"  '  Go  right  off  to  bed,  my  poor  dear  bird,'  said  she.  '  And 
when  your  father  comes  in  1  will  send  him  to  your  cage.  You 
shall  be  punished  for  this.' 

" '  I  don't  care,'  sais  I,  for  I  was  desperate  and  didn't  mind  what 
happened,  'who  you  send,  providin' you  don't  send  black  Rose, 
the  nigger  wench,  to  me.' 

"  Well,  in  about  an  hour  or  so,  I  heard  father  come  to  the  foot 
of  the  stairs  and  call  out  '  Sam,'  1  didn't  answer  at  first,  but  went 
and  threw  the  winder  open  ready  for  a  jump. 

"Thinks  I,  'Sam,  you  nre  in  great  luck  to-day.  1st.  You  got 
nearly  drowned,  savin'  thatlifMe  brat  Zeb  Snellns.  2nd.  You  lost 
a  bran  new  hat,  and  spoilt  your  go  to  meetin'  clothes.  3rd.  Mrs. 
Snell  boxed  your  ears  till  your  eyes  shot  stars,  like  rockets.  4th. 
You  got  an  all  fired  licking  from  old  Colonel  Jephunny,  till  he 
made  a  mulatto  of  you,  and  you  was  half  black  and  half  white. 
5th.  You  got  kissed  and  pysoned  by  that  great  big  emancipated 
she-nigger  wench.  6th.  You  have  killed  your  mother's  canary- 
bird,  and  she  has  jawed  you  till  she  went  into  hysterics.  7tli. 
Here's  the  old  man  a  goin'  to  give  you  another  walloping  and  all 
for  nothin.'  I'll  cut  and  run,  and  dot  drot  me  if  I  don't,  for  it's 
tarnation  all  over.' 

"'Sam,'  sais  father  again,  a  raisin'  of  his  voice. 

" '  Father,'  sais  I,  'I  beg  your  pardon,  I  am  very  sorry  for  what 
I  have  done,  and  I  think  I  have  been  punished  enough.  If  you 
"will  promise  to  let  me  off  this  time,  I  will  take  my  oath  I  will 
never  save  another  person  from  drowning  again,  the  longest  day  1 
ever  live.' 


AND    BUT    ONE    VICE. 


61 


" '  Come  down,'  said  he,  '  when  I  tell  you,  I  am  goin'  to  reward 
you.' 

"  '  Thank  you,'  sais  I,  '  I  have  been  rewarded  already  more  than 
I  deserve.' 

"Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  we  concluded  a  treaty  of 
peace,  and  do^vn  I  went,  and  there  was  Colonel  Snell,  who  said  he 
had  drove  over  to  beg  my  pardon  for  the  wrong  he  had  done  to  me, 
and  said  he,  '  Sam,  come  to  me  at  ten  o'clock  on  Monday,  and  I 
will  put  you  in  a  way  to  make  your  fortune,  as  a  recompense  for 
saving  my  child's  life.' 

"  Well,  I  kept  the  appointment,  tho'  I  was  awful  skared  about 
old  Rose  kissin'  of  me  again  ;  and  sais  he,  '  Sam,  I  want  to  show 
you  my  establishment  for  making  wooden  clocks.  One  o'  them 
can  be  manufactured  for  two  dollars,  scale  of  prices  then.  '  Come 
to  me  for  three  months,  and  I  will  teach  you  the  trade,  only  you 
musn't  carry  it  on  in  Connecticut,  to  undermine  me.'  I  did  so, 
and  thus  accidentally  I  becarne  a  clockraaker. 

"  To  sell  my  wares  I  came  to  Nova  Scotia.  By  p.  similar  acci- 
dent  1  met  the  Squire  in  this  province,  and  made  his  acquaintance. 
I  wrote  a  journal  of  our  tour,  and  for  want  of  a  title  he  put  my 
name  to  it,  and  called  it  '  Sam  Slick,  the  Clockmaker.'  That  book 
introduced  me  to  General  Jackson,  and  he  appointed  me  attach^  to 
our  embassy  to  England,  and  that  again  led  to  Mr.  Polk  makin«r 
me  '  Commissioner  of  the  Fisheries,'  which,  in  its  turn,  was  the 
means  of  my  having  the  honor  of  your  acquaintance,"  and  I  made 
him  a  scrape  of  my  hind  leg. 

"Now,"  sais  I,  "all  this  came  from  the  accident  of  my  havin' 
saved  a  child's  life,  one  day.  I  owe  my  '  wise  saws'  to  a  similar 
accident.  My  old  master,  and  friend,  that  you  have  read  of  in  my 
books,  Mr.  Hopewell,  was  chock  full  of  them.  He  used  to  call 
them  wisdom  boiled  down  to  an  essence,  concretes,  and  I  don't 
know  what  all.  He  had  a  book  full  of  English,  French,  Spanish, 
Italian,  German,  and  above  all,  Bible  ones.  Well,  he  used  to  make 
me  learn  them  by  heart  for  lessons,  till  1  was  fairly  sick  and  tired  to 
death  of  'em. 

"  '  Minister,'  sais  I,  one  day,  '  what  under  the  sun  is  the  use  of 
them  old,  musty,  fusty  proverbs.  A  boy  migJit  as  well  wear  his 
father's  boots,  and  ride  in  his  long  stirups,  as  talk  in  maxims,  it 
would  only  set  other  boys  a  laughin'  at  him.' 

" '  Sam,'  sais  he,  '  you  don't  understand  them  now,  and  you  don't 
understand  your  Latin  grammar,  tho'  you  can  say  them  both  off 
jy  heart.  But  you  will  see  the  value  of  one  when  you  come  to 
know  the  world,  and  the  other,  when  you  com.e  to  knew  the  lan- 
guage. The  latter  will  make  you  a  good  scholar,  and  th-»-  former  a 
wise  man.' 

"  Minister  was  right,  Doctor.     As  I  came  to  read  the  book  of 


\M 


62 

life. 


A     NEW     WAY 


TO    LEARN     GAELIi 


life,  I  soon  began  to  understand,  appreciate,  and  anply  my  proverbs 
r^  mT  r  ^'^"''^''"*  ''"''y  ^'•^^^"'  ^"d  better' LprTs^eTthani 
tnem  myself  1  have  acquired  the  habit,  as  my  brother  the  law 
yer,  sais  '  of  extracting  the  principle  fron.  cases.'  Do  you  takfi 
I  am  not  the  accident  of  an  accident;  for  I  believrthe  ba's  of 
nmrnage  were  always  duly  published  in  our  family  ;  but  I  am  the 
accident  of  an  mcident."  '  '  ^ 

"  There  is  a  great  moral  in  that,  too,  Mr.  Slick  "  he  said  "  TTow 
important  is  conduct,  when  the  m'eres't  trifle  may  carry  in  its  train 
misery  or  happiness  of  your  future  life."  ^      ^  ^ 

"Stick  a  pin  in  that  also,  Doctor."  said  I 


11;; 


CHAPTER  V. 

A    NEW    WAY    TO    LEARN   GAELIC. 

After  the  Captain  and  the  Pilot  had  retired,  sais  I  «  Miss  JessiP 
sposm  we  young  folks-(ah,  me,  it  is  time  to  get  a  new  word  I 
guess,  for  that  one  has  been  used  so  long,  it's  e'en  amo^t  wZou 
now)-sposin  we  yaung  folks  leave  the  Doctor  and  your  Tther  to 
finish  their  huntin'  stories,  and  let  us  go  to  the  other  rnnmn.^ 
have^a  dish  of  chat  about  things  in  geneill,  :rJt:ltrear  ^n' ^ 

"Oh,  we  live  too  much  alone  here,"  said  she,  «to  knowanythinff 
of  such  matters,  but  we  will  go  if  you  will  promise  to  till  us  of 

fill^nr.l  ""^'''T\  They  say  you  have  written  a  whole  book 
full  of  them  ;  how  I  should  like  to  see  it 

r  ZI''''^^  ^^"  K  '""'^  h  ':¥^^^'  ^^"'  t^«"'  y<^"  shall  have  oi.e  for 
I  have  a  copy  on  board,  I  believe,  and  I  shall  be  only  too  proud  if 

mv  booL  S^'  to  remember  me  by.  But  my  best^storie?  aint  in 
my  books.  Somehow  or  another,  when  I  want  them  thev  won't 
come  and  at  other  times  when  I  get  agoin'  talkin',  I  ca^  strb.Xm 
together  like  onions,  one  after  the  odier,  till  th^  twine  is  out  ^ 
have  a  heap  of  them,  but  they  are  all  mi'xed  and  confused  l^e  in 
my  mind,  and  it  seems  as  if  I  never  could  find  the  one  I  need  Do 
you  work  in  worsted.  Miss  ?"  " 

"  Well,  a  little,"  sais  she.     « It  is  only  town-bred  girls,  who  hava 


A    NEW     WAT    TO    LEARN    GAELIC. 


63 


nothing  to  attend  to  but  their  dress,  and  to  go  to  balls,  that  have 
leisure  to  amuse  themselves  that  way  ;  but  I  can  work  a  little, 
though  I  never  could  do  anythin'  fit  to  be  seen  or  examined." 

"  1  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  J,  and  1  paused,  and  she  looked  as  if 
she  didn't  over  half  like  my  taking  her  at  her  word  that  way.  "  I 
tihouldn't  wonder,"  said  I,  "  for  1  am  sure  your  eyes  would  fade 
the  color  out  of  the  worsted." 

"Why,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  she,  drawing  herself  up  a  bit,  "what 
nonsense  you  do  talk,  what  a  quiz  you  be." 

"  Fact,"  sais  I,  "  Miss,  I  assure  you,  never  try  it  again,  you  will 
be  s  re  to  spoil  it.  But  as  I  was  a  sayin,'  Miss,  when  you  see  a 
thrt  A  of  a  particular  color,  you  know  whether  you  have  any  mure 
like  it  or  not,  so  when  a  man  tells  me  a  story,  I  know  whether  I 
have  one  of  the  same  kind  to  match  it  or  not,  and  if  so,  I  know 
where  to  lay  my  hand  on  it ;  but  1  must  have  a  clue  to  my  yarns." 

Squire,  there  is  something  very  curious  about  memory  ;  1  don't 
think  there  is  such  a  thing  as  total  forgetfulness.  I  used  once  to 
think  there  was,  but  I  don't  now.  It  used  to  seem  to  me  that 
things  rusted  out,  but  now  it  appears  as  if  they  were  only  mis- 
placed, or  overlaid,  or  stowed  away  like  where  you  can't  find 
them  ;  but  depend  on  it,  when  once  there,  they  remain  forever. 
How  often  you  are  asked,  "  Don't  you  recollect  this  or  that  ?"  and 
you  answer,  "  No,  I  never  heard,  or  saw  it,  or  read  it,"  as  the  case 
may  be.  And  when  the  time,  and  place,  and  circumstances  are 
told  you,  you  say,  "  Stop  a  bit,  I  do  now  mind  something  about  it, 
vvarn't  it  so  and  so,  or  this  way,  or  that  way,"  and  finally  up  it 
comes,  all  fresh  to  your  recollection.  Well,  until  you  get  the  clue 
given  you,  or  the  key  note  is  struck,  you  are  reuJy  to  take  your 
oath  you  never  heard  of  it  afore.  Memory  has  many  cells.  Some 
of  them  aint  used  much,  and  dust  and  cobwebs  get  about  them, 
and  you  can't  tell  where  the  hinge  is,  or  can't  easily  discern  the 
secret  spring  ;  but  open  it  once,  and  whatever  is  stowed  away  there 
is  as  safe  and  sound  as  ever.  I  have  a  good  many,  capital  stories 
poKed  away  in  them  cubby-holes,  the  ean't  just  lay  my  hand  on 
when  I.wantto,  but  now  and  then,  wxien  looking  for  something 
else,  I  stumble  upon  them  by  accident.  Tell  you  what,  as  for  for- 
gettin'  a  thing  tectotally,  I  don't  believe  there  is  sich  a  thing  in 
nator.     But  to  get  back  to  my  story. 

"  Miss,"  sais  I,  "  I  can't  just  at  this  present  moment  call  to  mind 
a  story  to  please  you.  Some  of  them  are  about  bosses,  or  clocks, 
or  rises  taken  out  of  folks,  or  dreams,  or  courtships,  or  ghosts,  or 
what  not ;  but  few  of  them  will  answer,  for  they  are  either  too 
short  or  too  long." 

•'  Oh,"  says  Catherine  Fraser,  "  teli  us  a  courtship  j  I  dare  say 
you  will  mf.ke  great  fun  of  it." 


1'^    '    '1 

I 

l!'if|s.f' 


I  fc 


M  * 


64 


A     NEW    WAY    TO     LEARN    GlELIO, 


"  No,  no,"  says  Jessie,  "  tell  us  a  ghost  story.  Oh !  I  dellffht  in 
them."  ° 

"  Oh,"  said  Janet,  "  tell  us  about  a  dream.  I  know  one  myself 
•which  came  out  as  correct  as  provin'  a  sum." 

"That's  it,  Miss  Janet,"  said  1;  "do  you  tell  me  that  story, 
please,  and  it's  hard  if  J  can't  find  one  that  will  please  you  in  return 
for  it." 

"  Yes,  do,  dear,"  said  Jessie  ;  "  tell  Mr.  Slick  that  story,  for  it's 
a  true  one,  and  I  should  like  to  hear  what  he  thinks  of  it,  or  how 
he  can  account  for  it." 

"  Well,"  said  Janet,  "  you  must  excuse  me,  Mr.  Slick,  for  any 
mistakes  I  make,  for  I  don't  speak  very  jrood  English,  and  I  can 
hardly  tell  a  story  all  through  in  that  language. 

"I  have, a  brother  that  Jives  up  one  of  the  branches  of  the 
Buctouche  River  in  New  Brunswick.  He  bought  a  tract  of  land 
there  four  or  five  years  ago,  on  which  there  was  a  house  and  barn, 
and  about  a  hundred  acres  of  cleared  land.  He  made  extensive 
improvements  on  it  and  went  to  a  great  expense  in  clearing  up  the 
stumps,  and  buying  stock  and  farming  implements,  and  what  not. 
One  season,  between  plantin'  an^,  harvest,  he  run  short  of  money 
for  his  common  daily  use,  and  to  pay  some  little  debts  he  owed 
and  he  was  very  dull  about  it.  He  said  he  knew  he  could  come 
here  and  borrow  it  from  flither,  but  he  didn't  like  to  be  away  fi-om 
home  so  long,  and  hardly  knew  how  the  family  was  to  get  on  or 
to  pay  the  wages  till  his  return,  so  it  was  agreed  that  I  was  to  go 
the  next  Monday  in  a  vessel  bound  for  Halifax  and  bring  him 
what  he  wanted. 

_  "  At  that  time,  he  had  a  field  back  in  the  woods  he  was  cultiva- 
ting. Between  that  and  the  front  on  the  river,  was  a  poor  sand- 
flat  covered  with  spruce,  birch,  and  poplar,  and  not  worth  the 
expense  of  bringing  to  for  the  plough.  The  road  to  the  back  field 
ran  through  this  wood  land.  He  was  very  low-spirited  about  his 
situation,  for  he  said  if  he  was  to  borrow  the  money  of  a  merchant, 
he  would  require  a  mortgage  on  his  place,  and  perhaps  sell  it 
before  lie  knew  where  he  was.  Well,  that  night  he  woke  up  his 
wife,  and  said  to  hor. 

"'Mary,'  said  Lc,  'I  have  had  a  very  curious  dream  just  now.  I 
Ireamed  that  as  I  was  going  out  to  the  back  lot  with  the  ox-cart,  1 
found  a  large  sum  of  money  all  in  dollars  in  the  road  there. 

"  '  Well,'  says  Mary,  '  1  wish  it  was  true,  John,  but  it  is  too 
good  news  for  us.  The  worriment  we  have  had  about  money 
lately  has  set  you  a  dreaming.  Janet  sails  on  Monday,  she  will 
soon  be  back,  and  then  it  will  all  be  right ;  so  go  to  sleep  again, 

"  Well,  in  the  morning,  when  he  and  his  wife  got  up,  he  never 
spoke  or  thought  any  more  about  the  dream,  but  as  soon  as  break- 


^^' 


A     NEW     WAT    TO     LEARN     GAELIC. 


65 


but  it  is  too 


fast  was  over,  he  and  his  mar  yoked  up  the  oxen,  put  them  to  the 
cart,  and  lifted  the  harrow  ir  to  it,  and  started  for  the  field.  The 
servant  drove  the  team,  and  John  walked  behind  with  his  head 
down,  a  turning  over  in  his  mind  whether  he  couldn't  sell  some- 
thing off  the  farm  to  keep  matters  a-goin'  till  I  should  return,  when, 
all  at  once  as  they  were  passing  through  the  wood,  he  observed 
that  there  was  a  line  of  silver  dollars  turned  up  by  one  of  the 
wheels  of  the  cart,  and  continued  for  the  space  of  sixty  feet,  and 
then  ceased. 

"  The  moment  he  saw  *he  money,  he  thought  of  his  dream,  and 
he  was  so  overjoyed  that  he  was  on  the  point  of  calling  out  to  the 
man  to  stop,  but  he  thought  it  was  more  prudent  as  they  were 
alone  in  the  woods  to  say  nothing  about  it.  So  he  walked  on,  and 
joined  the  driver,  and  kept  him  in  talk  for  a  while.  And  then,  as 
if  he  had  suddenly  thought  of  something,  said,  '  Jube,  do  you  pro- 
ceed to  the  field  and  go  to  work  till  I  come.  1  shall  have  to  go  to 
the  house  for  a  short  time.' 

"Well,  as  soon  as  he  got  out  of  sight  of  the  cart,  off  he  ran 
home  as  hard  as  he  could  lay  legs  to  it,  only  stopping  to  take  up  a 
handful  of  the  coins  to  make  sure  they  were  real. 

*' '  Mary,  Mary,'  sais  he,  '  the  dream  has  come  true  ;  I  have 
found  the  money— see  here  is  some  of  it;  there  is  no  mistake;' 
and  he  threw  a  few  pieces  down  on  the  hearth  and  rung  them. 
'  They  are  genuine  Spanish  crowns.  Do  you  and  Janet  bring  the 
market-basket,  while  I  go  for  a  couple  of  hoes,  and  let  us  gather  it 
all  up,' 

"  Well,  sure  enough,  when  we  came  to  the  place  he  mentioned, 
there  was  the  wheel-track  full  of  dollars.  He  and  I  hoed  each  side 
of  the  rut,  which  seemed  to  be  in  a  sort  of  yellow  powder,  like  the 
dust  of  rotten  wood,  and  got  out  all  we  could  find.  We  afterwards 
tried  under  the  opposite  wheel,  and  behind  and  before  the  rut,  but 
could  find  no  more,  and  when  we  got  home  we  counted  it,  and 
found  we  had  eighty-two  pounds,  five  shillings. 

" '  Well,  this  is  a  God  send,  Mary,  aint  it  ?  said  brother,  and 
she  threw  her  arms  round  his  neck,  and  cried  for  joy  as  she 
kissed  him.' " 

"Which  way,  siid  I,  "  show  me.  Miss,  how  she  did  it,  only  you 
may  laugh  insteac'  of  crying,  if  you  like." 

"  Not  being  a  vvife,"  said  she,  with  great  quickness,  "  I  cannot 
show  you  myself,  but  you  may  imagine  it ;  it  Avill  do  just  as  well, 
or  dream  it,  and  that  will  do  better. 

"  Well,  Juhn  was  a  scrupulous  man,  and  he  was  determined  to 
restiiT-e  the  money,  if  he  could  find  an  owner  for  it;  but  he  could 
hear  of  no  one  who  had  lost  any,  nor  any  tradition  in  that  place 
that  any  one  ever  had  done  so  since  the  first  settlement  of  the 
couutry.     All  that  he  could  discover  was,  that  about  forty  years 


66 


I,  I  4 


iiPi 


A     NEW     WAY     TO     LEAEN    GAELIC. 


t'     mu 


il 


ij 

i 

I'll 

|*v 

;'!  '■: 

1''      i^ 

K                  ! 

1  i'  .  -         ^''i 

1   ^'    '      ,."''■'  i 

'  ij' 

::       !  j 

Mi!    •, 

-J;      '^'' 
1 

t;' 
||; 

before,  an  old  Frenchman  had  lived  somewhere  thereabouts  alone 
m  the  m.dst  of  the  woods  Who  he  was,  or  what  became  of  hhn' 
m.body  knew  ;  all  he  could  hear  was,  that  a  party  of  lumbermen 
had,  some  years  afierwards,  found  his  house  amidst  a  second 
gn^vvth  ot  young  wood,  that  wholly  concealed  it,  and  that  it 
contained  Ifis  turniture,  cooking  utensils,  and  trunks,  as  he  had 
left  them.  Some  supposed  he  had  been  devoured  by  bears  or 
wolves;  others  that  he  had  been  lost  in  the  woods  ;  and  some 
that  he  had  died  by  his  own  hands.  ' 

"On  hearing  this,  John  went  to  examine  his  habitation  or  the 
remains  of  it,  and  he  ibund  that  about  four  acres  around  it  were 
covered  w.th  the  second  growth,  as  it  is  called,  which  was  plainly 
to  be  distniguished  from  the  forest,  as  the  trees  were  not  only  not 
so  large,  or  so  old  as  the  neighboring  ones,  but,  as  is  alwa/s  the 
case  were  of  a  different  description  of  wood  altogether.  On  a 
caretul  inspection  of  the  spot  where  he  found  the  money  it 
appeared  that  the  wheel  had  passed  lengthways  alon<.  an  ^^oi 
mous  old  decayed  pine,  in  the  hollow  of^hich  he  suppo  ed  the 
money  must  have  been  hid;  and  when  the  tree  fell,  ?he  doll  irs 
had  rolled  along  its  centre  fifty  feet  or  more,  and  reiai  fed  there 
mitil  the  wood  was  rotten,  and  had  crumbled  into  dust. 

Ihere,  Sir,  there  is  my  story  ;  it  is  a  true  one,  I  assure  vou 

^  u  w^'i  f'"'""^'  ^  .^.^A*'"^"-     ^^^^  do  y^^  think  of  it  ?  »      '      ' 

Well,'  sa.s  1,  "  If  he  had  never  heard  a  rumor  nor  had  anv 

reason  to  suppose  that  the  money  had  been  hid  the^  why  iJ  was 

a  singular  thing,  and  looks  very  much  like  a "  ^ 

"  Like  a  what,"  said  she. 

thal'^alt"''  '"^^^^  '^''  "^"^  '""^^"'^  '^""*  "P««  ^  ««cond  time, 

"It's  a  dream  that  was  fulfilled,  though,"  she  said  •  « and  that 
don't  often  happen,  does  it  ?  "*  '  ^^^ 

" Unless,"  sais  I,  "a  young  lady  was  to  dream  now  that  she 
wa.  a  going  to  be  married  to  a  certain  person  and  th\r^n«! 
often  come  true.     Do  you  ?  "  person,  and  that  does 

"  C«h,  nonsense,"  said  sh^.     "  Come,  do  you  tell  us  your  storv 

"'^"''  sSi'ss  r"?^^i -^  y-  --'d,  if  [  related'^nle  ''  ^ 

nan,  do?  "  '     ''''"'  "^^'  ^''  ^^^^k'  t^^t's  a  good 

^t:^^^:^"-  -y'^^^  -^-d,and  that  will 
"Yes,  but  when  will  you  give  it  to  me  ?"  she  replied. 
"To-morrow,"  said  I,  "as  soon  as  I  go  on  boa^.     But  mind, 

etoV^''l"e'"a"  Sr^are^'Su^^^^^  "'  ^'""^  '^'^^'^  -  t^'«  extraordinary 

rcsp^taSj  '  ^''^'"^'  ^"'^  ^'^  P^"°"«  «^'  undoubted  veracity  and 


A     NEW    WAT    TO     LEARN     GAELIC. 


67 


s ;  and  some. 


there  is  one  condition."     And  I  said  in  Gaelic  :  "  Feumieth  thu  pog 
ihoir  dhomh  eur  a  shon\  (you  must  give  me  a  kiss  for  it.") 

"  Oh,"  said  she,  lookin'  not  over  pleased,  I  consaited  ;  but,  per- 
haps,  it  was  because  the  other  girls  laughed  like  anything,  as  if  it 
was  a  capital  joke,  "  that's  not  fair ;  you  said  you  would  give  ' 
and  now  you  want  to  sell  it.     If  that's  the  case,  I  will  pay  th^, 
money  for  it." 

"  Oh,  fie,"  sais  T,  «  Miss  Jessie." 

"  Well,  I  want  to  know  !" 

"  No,  indeed ;  what  I  meant  was  to  give  you  that  book  to  re- 
member me  by  when  I  am  far  away  from'  here,  and  I  wanted 
you  to  give  me  a  little  token  0  do  bhilean  boidheach  (from  your 
pretty  lips,)  that  I  should  remember  the  longest  day  I  live." 

"  You  mean  that  you  would  go  away,  laugh,  and  forget  right 
off.  No,  that  won't  do,  but  if  you  must  have  a  token  I  will  look 
up  some  little  keepsake  to  exchange  for  it.  "  Oh,  dear,  what  a 
horrid  idea,"  she  said,  quite  scorney  like,  "  to  trade  for  a  kiss  ;  it's 
the  way  father  buys  his  fish,  he  gives  salt  for  them,  or  flour,  or 
some  such  barter,  oh,  Mr.  Slick,  I  don't  think  much  of  you.  But 
for  goodness  gracious  sake  how  did  you  learn  Gaelic  ?" 

"  Svom  lips,  dear,"  said  I,  "  and  that's  the  reason  I  shall  never 
forget  it.'' 

"  No,  no,"  said  she,  "  but  how  on  earth  did  you  ever  pick  it  up." 

"  I  didn't  pick  it  up,  Miss,"  said  I,  "  I  kissed  it  up,  and  as  you 
want  a  story  I  might  as  well  tell  you  that  as  any  other.'' 

"  J^,^®P®"<^^  "PO'^  ^V'""'^<^  sort  of  a  story  it  is,"  said  she,  coloring. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  the  Campbell  girls  who  didn't  appear  quite  so 
sluttish  as  she  was,  "  do  tell  us,  no  doubt  you  will  make  a  funny 
one  out  of  it.     Come,  begin." 

Squire,  you  are  older  than  I  be,  and  I  suppose  you  will  think 
all  this  sort  of  thing  is  clear  sheer  nonsense,  but  depend  upon  it  a 
kiss  IS  a  great  mystery.  There  is  many  a  thing  we  know  that  we 
can  t  explain,  still  we  are  sure  it  is  a  fact  for  all  that.  Why 
should  there  be  a  sort  of  magic  in  shaking  hands,  which  seems 
only  a  mere  form,  and  sometimes  a  painful  one  too,  for  some  folks 
wring  your  fingers  ofTamost  and  make  you  fairly  dance  with  pain, 
they  hurt  you  so.  It  don't  give  much  pleasure  at  any  time. 
What  the  magic  of  it  is,  we  can't  tell,  but  so  it  is  for  all  that.  It 
seems  only  a  custom  like  bowing  and  nothing  else,  still  there  is 
more  in  it  than  meets  the  eye.  But  a  kiss  fairly  electrifies  you,  it 
warms  your  blood  and  sets  your  heart  a  beatin'  like  a  brass  drum, 
and  makes  your  eyes  twinkle  like  stars  in  a  frosty  night.  It  tante 
a  thing  ever  to  be  forgot.     No  language  eau  express  it,  no  letters 

>7  ^wl  ^"""^'  "^^^^^  ^^^*  ^"  "^^"^'  ^^  ®^"al  to  the  flavor  of 
It  I  What  an  aroma  it  has  !  How  spiritual  it  is.  It  ain't  gross, 
^or  you  can't  feed  on  it,  it  don't  cloy,  for  the  palf'^^e  ain't  required 


w 

^^ 

0-      . 

■jti'' 

i  ■•;!    "'■ 


I; 


>1 


B.     ♦ 


« 


68 


A     NEW     WAT    TO    LEARN    OAELI( 


to  test  Its  taste.     It  is  neither  visible,  nor  tangible,  nor  portable. 

nor  transferable.     It  is  not  a  substance,  nor  a  liquid,  nor  a  vapor* 

It  has  neither  color  nor  form.     Ituagination  can't  conceive  it      It 

can  t  be  imitated  or  forged.     It  is  confuied  to  no  clime  or  countrv 

but  IS  ubiquitous.     It  is  disembodied  when  completed,  but  is  in! 

stantly  reproduced  and  so  is  immortal.     It  is  as  old  as  the  creation 

and  yet  is  as  young  and  fresh  as  ever.     It  pre-existed,  still  exists 

and  always  will  exist.     It  pervades  all  natur.     The  breeze  as  it 

}>asses  kisses  the  rose,  and  the  pendant  vine  stoops  down  end  hi<lc.s 

with  Its  tendrils  its  blushes,  as  it  kisses  the  limpid  stream  that 

waits  in  an  eddy  to  meet  it,  and  raises  its  tiny  waves,  like  anxious 

lips  to  receive  it.     Depend  upon  it  Eve  learned  it  in  Paradise,  and 

was  taught  its  beauties,  virtues  and  varieties  by  an  angel,  there  is 

something  so  transcendent  in  it. 

How  it  is  adapted  to  all  circumstances !  There  is  the  kiss  of 
we  come  and  of  parting,  the  long-lingering,  loving  present  one,  the 
stolen  or  the  mutual  one,  the  kiss  of  lovo,  of  joy,  and  of  sorrow 
the  seal  of  promise,  and  the  receipt  of  fulfilment.  Is  it  slranfre 
therefore  that  a  woman  is  invincible  whose  armory  consists  of 
kisses,  smiles,  sighs,  and  tears  ?  Is  it  any  wonder  that  poor  old 
Adam  was  hrst  tempted,  and  then  ruined  ?  It  is  very  easy  for 
preachers  to  get  up  with  long  iaces,  and  tell  us  he  ought  to  have 
been  more  of  a  man  M^  opinion  is,  if  he  had  been  less  of  a  man, 
It  would  liave  been  better  for  him.  But  I  am  not  agoln'  to  preach ; 
so  1  will  get  back  to  my  story ;  but.  Squire,  I  shall  always  main- 
tain  to  mv  dying  day,  that  kissing  is  a  sublime  mystery. 

1  ^*^')'"  ^^'^  ^'  "  ladies,  I  was  broiighten  up  to  home,  on  my 
lather  s  farm,  and  my  edeeation,  what  little  I  had  of  it,  I  got  from 
the  Minister  of  Slickville,  Mr.  Joshua  Hopewell,  who  was  a  friend 
of  my  father's,  and  was  one  of  tiio  best  men,  I  believe,  that  ever 
lived.  He  was  all  kindness,  and  all  gentleness,  and  was,  at  the 
same  time,  one  of  the  most  learned  men  in  the  United  States.  Ho 
took  a  great  tancy  to  me,  and  spared  no  pains  with  my  schooling, 
and  1  owe  everything  I  have  in  the  world  to  his  instruction.  I 
didni  mix  much  with  other  boys,  and,  from  living  mostly  with 
people  older  than  myself,  acquired  an  old-fashioned  way  that  I 
have  never  been  able  to  shake  off  yet ;  all  the  boys  called  me  "  Old 
Slick.  In  course,  I  didn't  learn  much  of  life  that  way.  All  1 
knew  about  the  world  beyond  our  house  and  hisin,  was  from  books,' 
and  from  hearing  him  talk,  and  he  convursed  better  than  any  book 
1  ever  set  eyes  on.  Well,  in  course  I  grew  up  unsophisticated 
like,  and  I  think  I  may  say  I  was  as  innocent  a  young  man  as  ever 
yoii  see." 

Oh,  how  they  all  hmghed  at  that !  ''  You  ever  innocent  I"  said 
they.  ''  Come,  that's  good  ;  we  like  it ;  it's  capital !  Sam  Slick 
au  innocent    boy  !     Well,  that  must  have  been  before  you  were 


A     NEW     WAY     TO     LEARN     GAELIC. 


69 


ifteaned,  or  talked  in  joining  hand,  at  any  rate.  How  simple  w© 
are,  ain't  we  ?"  and  they  laughed  themselves  into  a  hooping-cough 
amost.  •         ° 

"  Fact,  Miss  Janet,"  said  I,  "  I  assure  you,"  (for  she  seemed  the 
most  tickled  at  the  idea  of  any  of  them,)  "I  was,  indeed.  I  won't 
go  for  to  pretend  to  say,  some  of  it  didn't  rub  off  when  it  became 
dry,  when  I  wais  fishing  in  the  world  on  my  own  hook  ;  but,  at  the 
time  1  am  speaking  of  when  I  was  twenty-one  next  grass,  I  was 
so  guileless,  I  couldn't  see  no  harm  in  anything." 

"  So  I  should  think,"  said  she    "  it's  so  like  you." 

"  Well,  at  that  time  there  wac  a  fever,  a  most  horrid  typhus 
fever,  broke  out  in  Slickville,  brought  there  by  some  shipwrecked 
emigrants.  There  was  a  Highland  family  settled  in  the  town,  the 
year  afore,  consisting  of  old  Mr.  Duncan  Chisholm,  his  wife,  and 
daughter  Flora.  The  old  people  were  carried  oft*  by  the  disease, 
and  Flora  was  left  without  friends  or  means,  and  the  worst  of  it 
was,  she  could  hardly  speak  a  word  of  intelligible  English.  Well 
Minister  took  great  pity  on  her,  and  spoke  to  father  about  taking 
her  into  his  house,  as  sister  Sally  was  just  married,  and  the  old 
lady  left  without  any  companion  ;  and  they  agreed  to  take  her  as 
one  of  them,  and  she  was,  in  return,. to  help  mother  all  she  could. 
So,  next  day  she  came,  and  took  up  her  quarters  with  us.  Oli 
my,  Miss  Janet,  what  a  beautiful  girl  she  was !  She  was  as  tall  as 
you  are,  Jessie,  and  had  the  same  delicate  little  feet  and  hands." 

1  threw  thft  in  on  purpose,  for  women,  in  a  general  way,  don't 
like  to  hear  others  spoken  of  too  extravagant,  particularly  if  you 
praise  them  fur  anything  they  hain't  got;  but  if  you  praise  them 
for  anything  they  pride  themselves  on,  they  are  satisfied,  because 
it  shows  you  estimate  them  also  at  the  right  valy,  tocT.  It  took, 
for  she  pushed  her  foot  out  a  little,  and  rocked  it  up  and  down 
slowly,  as  if  she  was  rather  proud  of  it. 

"  Her  hair  was  a  rich  auburn,  not  red  (I  don't  like  that  at  all, 
for  It  IS  like  a  lucifer  match,  apt  to  go  off"  into  a  flare  spon- 
tainiously  sometimes,)  but  a  golden  color,  and  lots  of  it  too,  just 
about  as  much  as  she  could  cleverly  manage ;  eyes  like  diamonds ; 
complexion,  red  and  white  roses ;  and  teeth,  not  quite  so  regular 
as  yours.  Miss,  but  as  white  as  them  ;  and  lips— lick !— they  re- 
minded one  of  a  curl  of  rich  rose-leaves,  when  the  bud  first  befrins 
to  swell  and  spread  out  with  a  sort  of  peachy  bloom  on  th*em 
ripe,  rich,  and  chock  full  of  kisses."  ' 

•  Oh,  the  poor  ignorant  boy !  "  said  Janet,  "  you  didn't  know 
nothing,  did  you  1 " 

''  VVell,  1  didn't,"  sais  I,  "  I  was  as  innocent  as  a  child ;  but 
nobody  is  so  ignorant  as  not  to  know  a  splendiferous  gall  when  he 
sees  her,"  and  I  made  a  motion  of  my  head  to  her,  as  much  as  to 
say,  "  Put  that  cap  on,  for  it  justs  fits  you." 


70 


A     NEW    WAY    TO    *.EAEN    OAELIO. 


II 


"My  Bakes,  what  a  nook  hIio  had?  not  too  long  and  thin,  fr7 
that  looks  g()O80y  ;  nor  too  Hliort  juul  thick,  for  that'givos  a  clumsy 
appeurnnco  to  the  figuro  ;  hut  betwixt  and  l»«twocn,  and  porfoction 
always  lies  therp,  just  mid  way  botweon  extromns.  Hut  hor  b»;«"t 
—oh!  tho  like  never  was  seen  in  Slickvillc,  for  tho  ladies  there,  in 
a  gineral  way,  have  no — " 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Jessie,  a  little  snappish,  for  prnisin'  one  gall 
to  another  ain't  the  shortest  way  to  win  their  regard,  "iro  on  with 
your  story  of  Gaelic." 

"  And  her  waist,  Jessie,  was  tho  most  beautiful  thing,  next  to 
your  u  I  ever  see.  It  was  as  n)und  as  an  apple,  and  anything  that 
is  round,  you  know,  is  larger  than  it  looksi,  and  1  wondered  how 
much  it  would  measure.  J  never  see  su(^h  an  innocent  girl  as  she 
was.  Brought  up  to  Ik. me,  and  in  the  country,  like  me,  she  knew 
no  more  abot:l  the  ways  of  tho  world  that  I  did.  Hhe  was  u  mere 
child,  as  I  was  ;  she  was  only  nineteen  years  old,  and  neither  of  us 
knew  anything  of  society  rules.  One  day  1  asked  her  to  let  mo 
measure  her  waist  with  my  arm,  and  1  did,  and  then  she  measured 
mmo  with  her'n,  and  we  had  a  great  disj)uto  which  was  the  largest, 
and  we  tried  several  times,  before  we  ascertained  there  was  only 
an  inch  diHerence  between  us.  1  never  was  so  glad  in  my  life  as 
when  she  came  to  stay  with  us;  she  was  so  good-natured,  and  so 
cheerlul,  and  so  innocent,  it  was  (piite  charming. 

"  Father  took  a  wonderful  shindy  to  her,  for  even  old  men  can't 
help  liking  beauty.  Hut  somehow,  1  don't  think  mother  did  ;  and 
It  appears  to  mo  now,  in  looking  back  upon  it,  that  she  was  afraid 
I  should  hko  her  too  much.  1  consaited  sho  watched  us  out  of  tho 
corner  of  her  glasses,  and  had  her  ears  open  to  hear  what  wo  said  • 
but  p'j-aps  it  was  only  my  vanity,  for  1  don't  know  nothin'  about 
the  working  of  a  woman's  heart  even  now.  I  am  only  a  bachelor 
yet,  and  how  in  the  world  should  1  know  anvthing  more  about  any 
lady  than  what  1  knew  about  jioor  Flora?  'in  tho  ways  of  women 
lam  still  as  innocent  as  a  child;  I  do  believe  (hat  they  could 
persuade  mo  that  tho  moon  is  nothin'  but  an  eight-day  cUn-k  with 
an  illuminated  face.  I  ain't  vain,  1  ar  .sure  you,  and  never  brag  of 
what  I  don't  know,  and  1  must  say,  1  don't  even  protend  to  uifdor- 
stand  them." 

"  Well,  I  never  ? "  said  Jessie. 

"Nor  1,"  said  Janet. 

"Did  you  ever,  now  I "  said  Catherine.  "Oh,  dear,  how  soft 
you  are,  ain't  you?" 

"Always  was,  ladies,"  said  I,  "and  am  still  as  soft  as  dough. 
Father  was  very  kind  to  her,  but  ho  was  old  and  impatient,  and  a 
little  hard  of  hearing,  and  he  couldn't,  half  the  tisne  !n!der.st!ve,d  h^T, 
One  day  she  came  in  with  a  message  from  neighbor  Dearlminel 
and  sals  she. 


■^^:  ,■; 


A    NKW    WAT    TO    LRARN    OAKHO. 


n 


"  Fftther-.' 

'''(;ol.>.u.|    if  you  plcu.se,  clear,' saul  mother,  '  ho  is  n'.t  vojp 

aru-r;  and  the  oUl  hv.  y  Hcona-d  as  if  sho  did  .'t  ha  f  fancv^anv 

l>ody  .alln.ff  h.m  that  hut  hor  „wn  children.     Whothor  iLtTs 

.>::i;f  ;;;;;t,:^;'i;:::'lrt:i.rr^  -  -t  waywi.  a„d 

Vv'llT  ^''"T'S'^-"''"^''   «"ick,    Mr.    Doarborno   says-says-- 

^:if::r^:!::^'  ^-^-^^  «hocouidu'tfindLE:;^^sh. 

III.:  ' .JS:^:"'  ''-"'  '^"^^  ^""  «^-  -^^  -^  «f  ^he  roo.,  c-ying 
-I'liat  girJ  taiics  worse  and  worse,'  said  mother. 

.hocm't  dlrnll  -'y 'l'< '^'y'  '"t'»«'-.  a  little  moinned,  'for 
H 10  can  t  talk  at  all,  so  there  is  no  worse  about  it.  I  am  sorrv 
thouKh  soared  her  (wish  son.ebody  would  teach  her  E,^d  s  7 
^^^^^_J  w.ll,    suKs  1,  'father,   and  she  .hnll  teach  mo  Gaelic  in 

;;'''Hlf'<;'l  you  shnnV  sals  mother;    'you  have  got  somethinir 

tier  to  do  than  uuning  her;  and  as  fi  Gaelic,  Lui'tTea    it^ 

la  horr.d  outlandish  language,  and  of  no  earth  y  uowh^vr 

under  the  blessed  sun.     It's  worse  chan  Indian  '  >>^nat<^vcr 

"  '  Do,  Sam,'  said  father  ;  '  it's  an  act  of  kindne  -■>  .'  .  i-  „„ 

orplmr,  and  beside.,  Gaelic  may  be  of  great  use  t       ..  ;•  j^      I 

l.ke  Gaehe  myself;  we  had  some  brave  Jacobite  I , .         .u  s    dicr 

in  our  army  m   the  war  that  did  great  service,  buUn^fiXS 

ohody  cou  d  understand  them.     And  as  for  orihnns,  whe      Tul 

how  many  fatherless  children  wc  made  for  the  British  -' 

^iJl^^'i^^Zl^Z^::  employed,' said  mother,  but  he 

giri'illat'''  '^  ^'"^^^  ^''^'"'  '"^"•"^^  '^^"^-     ^^'  ■'«  ^  beautiful 
"'If  it  warn't  for  her  cirrotty  hair  and  freckled    fn/.« '   c„;^ 

I,,,!' '  ^'"?'  **?"'■'  ""''  "'"'"'■•  '  '<"'<'''  •""  Enrfish  for  heaven's  sakn  • 
b..  .,,,,,    »,,e  ,„ust  give  you  !e»s„r,s  .„  (.^e.io.     Lrju^Lt^^ 

!< !  !;•,'"  ^'''''"'  nonsense,'  said  mother,  raisin'  her  voice. 

erect     'h'LTvoH    ''''^  ^"''''''  ^'^'"S  "P  his  head  and  standing 
erect.      it .  my  orders,  marm,  and  they  must  be  obeyed; '  and  hi 


72 


A    NEW    WAY    TO    LEARN    GAELIC. 


■»& 


walked  out  of  the  roora  as  stilV  as  a  ramrod,  and  as  grand  as  a 

"'Satn,'  snis  mother,  when  we  was  alono,  Met  the  cal  be;  the 
less  810  tniRs  the  more  she'll  work.  Do  you  understand,  mj 
dear  V  •'  »      / 

^"  'That's  just  my  idea,  mother,*  sais  I. 

I' I  Then  you  won't  do  no  such  nonsense,  will  you,  Sammy?' 
Vh  no  !  sais  1  '  I'll  just  go  througli  the  form  now  and  then  to 
please  ather,  but  that's  all.  Who  the  plague  wants  Gaelic '{  If 
a  1  the  Highlands  of  Scotland  were  put  into  a  heap,  and  then  multi- 
pljed  by  throe,  they  wouldn't  bo  half  as  big  as  the  White  Moun- 
tains would  they,  marm  ?  They  are  just  r  othin'  on  the  map,  and 
high^ lulls,  hko  high  folks,  arc  plaguy  ap.,  to  iiavo  barren  heads.' 

fc»ain,  said  she  a  pattin'  of  mo  mx  tho  cheek,  *  you  have  twico 
as  much  sense  as  your  father  has  after  all.     You  take  after  me. 

1  was  so  simple,  I  didn't  know  what  to  do.  So  1  said  yes  to 
mother  and  yes  to  fiivher ;  for  I  knew  I  must  honor  and  obey  my 
parents  so  I  thought  I  would  please  both.  I  made  up  my  mind  1 
woukln  t  get  books  to  learn  Gaelic  or  teach  Fnglish,  but  do  it  by 
talking  and  that .  wouldn't  mind  father  seeiii'  me,  but  I'd  keep  a 
bright  look  out  for  tho  old  lady."  ^ 

!!  \\^-  m'""'  •  '^'*Y  i"noccnt  that  was,  warn't  it?"  said  they. 
Well,  it  was,'    saidl;    M  didn't  know  no  betta-  then,  and  I 
don  t  now  ;  and  wlut's  more,  i  think  1  would  do  ti.e  same  arrin    if 
It  was  to  do  over  once  niore."  '^    ' 

II 1  have  no  doubt  you  would,"  said  Janet. 
Well    1  took  every  opportunity,  when  mother  was  not  by  to 
learn  words.     I  would  toiu^h  iier  hand  muI  say,  '  VViiat  is  that?' 
Ami  she  would  siiy,  'Zam,-A,'  and  her  arm,  her  head  and  her  cheek 
and  she  would  toll  me  the  names,  and  her  eyes,  her  nose,  and  h '^ 
c'un,  and  so  on  ;  and  then  1  would  touch  hor  lips,  and  say   '  What's 
u'r  \^    i'''^  f'^i'^'y  \Bhileau:    And  then  I'd  kiss  h^u-,  and  say 
lidf  waT^      ^r^'*'^'^  ^^.\v    «7V     But  she  was  ^o  artkJl^ 
and  bONvasl;  we  didn't  r.now  that's  not  usual  unless  people  ar' 
"^""u  w  .i    ;''"  "^'^  '"'^'''^  ''^'^"  any  tiling  of  the  world  then. 

Well,  1  useo  to  go  over  that  lesson  (,very  tine  1  got  a  chance 
and  soon  g.t  it  all  by  heart  but  that  word  PoJ  (kiss,)  whic-h  1  nem 
could  rou.ombor.     She  said  1  was  very  stupid  mid ^^i  must  say  i 
how  oui  r'h'  ""^  f  ^  ^-eoollecied  it.     Well,  it  was  astonislL.g 
hoNv  quick  she  picked  i.p  English,  and  what  progress  i  made  iS 

l^o  nv'  ""^'V'/' r'"  '  ^;"  ^'"^'  '"^>^»^<^^N  ^vhc/hat'cd  the  lang,.a,o 
like  pyson,  i  do  believe  I  should  soon  have  mastered  it  so  as  to 
speak  It  i.s  well  as  you  do.  But  sho  took  every  opportunity  she 
could  to  Keep  us  apart,  and  whenever  I  went  .ito  the  room  where 
1  lora  was  spinning,  or  ironing,  she  would  eitlier  follow  and  take  a 
Ciiaii,  una  sit  me  out,  or  send  mo  away  of 


ay  ot  an  errand,  or  tell  me  to 


^^ 


A    KKW    WAT    TO    LEAEN    OAELIO. 


78 


was  (loii.rht  ul .  tl.nvvv.    T  V     1        .    ^.'  ^'^'^^  J«"f't,  but  itrcallv 
"If*  ,-,>..  4i  •  I  T.r.'     ..      *""«,      or  course  they  werp 

n.gla ,  Oh  dor  ,t  ,n„la..  ,„_,.  hean  aoho  to  think  of  it,  iV  w^  thj 


,V 


r 

a- 

1 

1 

iifl; 

dJ  f 


liB'll- 


Ji 


,jll 


]'■  '4 


74 


A     NEW    WAT     TO     L  E  A  K  IT    OABLIO. 


last  we  ever  spent  together.  Flora  was  starching  muslins,  mother 
had  seen  me  off  to  my  room,  and  then  went  to  hers,  when  down  I 
crept  in  my  stockin'  feet  as  usual,  puts  a  chair  into  the  chimney 
corner,  and  we  sat  down  and  repeated  our  lessons.  We  came  to 
the  word  Poff  (kiss),  I  always  used  to  forget  it;  and  it's  very  odd, 
for  it's  the  most  beautiful  one  in  the  language.  We  soon  lost  all 
caution,  and  it  sounded  so  loud  and  sharp  it  started  mother ;  and 
before  we  knew  where  we  were,  Ave  heard  her  enter  the  parlor 
which  was  '  xt  to  us.  In  an  instant  I  was  off  and  behind  the  entry 
door,  and  Flora  was  up  and  at  work.  Just  then  the  old  lady  came 
in  as  softly  as  possible,  and  stood  and  surveyed  the  room  all  round. 
I  could  see  her  through  the  crack  of  the  door,  she  actually  seemed 
disappointed  at  not  finding  me  there. 

"'What  noise  was  that  I  heard  Flora,'  she  said,  speakin'  as 
mild  as  if  she  was  actilly  afraid  to  wake  the  cat  up. 

"  Flora  lifted  the  centre  of  the  muslin,  she  was  starching,  with 
one  hand,  and  makin'  a  hollow  under  it  in  the  palm  of  the  other, 
she  held  it  close  up  to  the  old  woman'n  face,  and  clapped  it ;  and 
it  made  the  very  identical  sound  of  the  smack  she  had  heard,  and 
the  dear  child  repeated  it  in  quick  succession  several  times.  The 
old  lady  jumped  back  the  matter  of  a  foot  or  a  more,  she  positively 
looked  skared,  as  if  the  old  gentleman  would  think  somebody  was 
a  kissin'  of  her. 

"Oh  dear,  I  thought  I  should  have  teeheed  right  out.  She 
seemed  utterly  confounded,  and  Flora  looked,  as  she  was,  the  dear 
critter,  so  artless  and  innocent !  It  dumbfoundercd  her  completely. 
Still  she  wavn't  quite  satisfied. 

"  '  What's  this  chair  doing  so  far  in  the  chimbley  corner  V  said 
she. 

"  How  glad  I  was  there  warn't  two  there.  The  fact  is,  we  never 
used  but  one,  we  was  quite  young,  and  it  was  always  big  enough 
for  us  both. 

"Flora  talked  Gaelic  as  fast  as  hail,  slipt  off  her  shoes,  sat  down 
on  it,  put  her  feet  to  the  fire,  folded  her  arms  across  her  bosom, 
laid  her  head  back  and  looked  so  sweet  and  so  winnin'  into  mother's 
face,  and  said,  '  cha  n'eil  Bewl^  (I  have  no  English)  and  then  pro- 
ceeded  in  Gaelic, 

*' '  If  you  hadn't  sat  in  that  place,  yourself,  when  you  was  young, 
I  guess  you  wouldn't  be  so  awful  scared  at  it,  you  old  goose.' 

J'  I  thought  I  never  saw  her  look  so  lovely.  Mother  was  not 
luite  persuaded  she  was  wrong  after  all.  Slie  looked  all  round 
agin,  as  if  she  was  sure  I  was  there,  and  then  came  towards  the 
door  where  I  was,  so  I  sloped  up-stairs  like  a  shadow  on  the  wall, 
and  into  bed  in  no  time;  but  she  followed  up  and  came  close  to 
mc,  and  holdin  the  candle  in  my  face,  said  : 

'•  •  Sam,  are  you  asleep  ?" 


THE     WOUNDS     OF    THE    HEART. 


75 


"  Well,  I  didn't  answer. 

'I '  Sam  '  said  she,  '  why  don't  you  speak,'  and  she  shook  me. 
-Hullo,'  sais  I,  pretendin'  to  wake  up,  'what's  the  matter '. 
have  I  overslept  myself?    s  it  time  to  get  up?'  and  I  put  Tt  my 

No  Sam  said  she,'  you  couldn't  oversleep  yourself,  for  you 
havn  t  slept  at  all,  you  ain't  even  ondressed  '  ^ 

" '  Ain't  J,'  said  I,  '  are  you  sure  V 

'''Why  look  here,'  said  she,  throwin'  down  the  clothes  ati^T 
pu  m'my  coat  over  my  head  till  she  nearly  strangled  me  "' 

'    Well,  I  shoqdn't  wonder  if  I  hadn't  stripped,'%ais  J.     '  When 

?n  any  wa/.'   ^"'''^  ''"^^'  ''  '  ^^'  '  '''^^^''  ^'  ^  g^^^  ^o  tJ^ 
"  She  never  spoke  another  word,  but  I  saw  a  storm  was  brewin 
and  I  heard  her  mutter  to  herself,  '  creation !  what  a  spot  of  woT? 
1 11  have  no  teachmg  of  mother  tongue  here.'     Next  morninT she 
sent  me  to  ooston  of  an  errand,  and  when  I  returned,  two^days 
after,  ilora  was  gone  to  live  with  sister  Sally.     I  have  never  for 
.u-en  myself  for  that  folly;  but  really  it  all  came  of  our  beL  so 
artless  and  so  mnocent      There  was  no  craft  in  either  of  ,S^She 
forgot  to  remove  the  chair  from  the  chimbley  corner,  poor  simnle 
m.uded  tbng,  and  I  forgot  to  keep  my  coat  sleeve  covCed      Yes 

Ss^tsvaL^!'' '-'''  ''^  ^"--^^  ^-  ^'-^^  ^^-  -;. 


corner  V  said 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE  WOUNDS  OF  THE  HEART. 

I  Z'\Z  P  ?^  ^Tl'^^T?"  ^'^^'y  ^  ^^*"^"«d  t«  the  room  where 
J  had  left  Peter  and  the  Doctor,  but  they  had  both  retired      And 

as  my  chamber  adjoined  it,  I  sat  by  the  fire,  Sted  a  cL 
fell  uito  one  of  my  rambling  meditations.  ^  ^    '  ^"^ 

Here,  said  I  to  myself,  is  another  phase  of  life.  Peter  is  at 
Zt^/^'lt^:::!  C-«^-«^?  trapper,  a  backw^odsmta  d  a 
mn  of  tho  .  ?  v'  ^^%^.^'^  Scotch  and  half  Indian,  and  have 
thS^sters/rvMd ''!(;•''  '^  ^"'^  '''''''  ^'^^^^^  i«  ^-^^  between 
re^em  r  T^^.n  fT'"  "'  ^"^'""'^'  ''^PP^^'^rance,  and  innate 
for  thH;:!;,,  J^ll^'l^l^^^^l'y  -¥'^doned  his  profession. 
solitndP  nf^L'i-      7""' tT"'^""  "'"^  ^^^y  ^^'^""ts  of  men,  for  the 

an  one  lit     T'^'     ^^'  ''T/  *°  ^'^^"'^  ^»d  »^t  differen  ly  from 
-H)  one  e.se  m  the  country.     Here  too  w«  have  had  Cutler,  who  is 


76 


THE  WOUNDS  OP  THE  HEART, 


P     I 


Hi 


.    •- 


P'' 


M 


W 


a  scholar  and  a  skilful  navigator,  filling  the  berth  of  a  master  of  a 
fishing  craft.  He  began  life  with  nothing  but  good  principles,  and 
good  spirits,  and  is  now  about  entering  on  a  career,  which  in  a  few 
years  will  lead  to  a  great  fortune.  He  is  as  much  out  of  place 
■where  he  is,  as  a  salmon  would  be  in  a  horse  pond.  And  here  am 
I,  Sqflire,  your  humble  servant,  Sam  Slick  the  clockmaker,  not  an 
eccentric  mtn,  I  hope,  for  I  detest  them,  they  are  either  mad,  or 
wish  to  be  thought  so,  because  madness,  they  suppose  to  be  an 
evidence  of  genius ;  but  a  specimen  of  ^  class  not  uncommon  in  the 
States,  though  no  other  country  in  the  world  but  Yankeedoodledum 
produces  it. 

This  is  a  combination,  these  colonies  often  exhibit,  and  what  a 
fool  a  man  must  be  when  character  is  written  in  such  large  print, 
if  he  can't  read  it,  even  as  he  travels  on  horseback. 

Of  all  the  party  assembled  here  to-night,  the  Scotch  lasses  alone, 
who  came  in  during  the  evening,  arc  what  you  call  every  day  galls. 
They  are  strong,  hearty,  intelligent  and  good-natured,  full  of  fun 
and  industry,  can  milk,  churn,  make  butter  and  cheese  ;  card,  spin 
and  weave,  and  will  make  capital  wives  for  farmers  of  their  own 
station  in  life.  As  such,  they  are  favorable  representatives  of  their 
class,  and  lo  my  mind,  far,  far  above  those  that  look  down  upon 
them,  who  ape,  but  can't  copy,  and  have  the  full^^,  because  they 
sail  in  the  wake  of  larger  craft  to  suppose  they  can  be  mistaken  for 
anything  else  than  tenders.  Putting  three  masts  into  a  coaster 
may  make  her  an  object  of  ridicule,  but  can  never  give  her  the  ap 
pearance  of  a  ship.  They  know  this  in  England,  they  have  got  to 
learn  it  yet  in  the  Provinces. 

Well,  this  miscellaneous  collection  of  people  aflbrds  a  wide  field 
for  speculation.  Jessie  is  a  remarkable  woman,  I  must  ask  the 
Doctor  about  her  history.  I  see  there  is  depth  of  feeling  about 
her,  a  simplicity  of  character,  a  singular  sensitiveness,  and  a  shade 
of  melancholy.  Is  it  constitutional,  or  does  it  arise  from  her  pecu- 
liar position  1  I  wonder  how  she  reasons,  and  what  she  thinks, 
and  how  she  would  talk,  if  she  would  say  what  she  thinks.  Has 
she  ability  to  build  up  a  theory  of  her  own,  or  does  she,  like  half 
the  Avomen  in  the  w^orld,  only  think  of  a  thing  as  it  occurs  ?  Does 
she  live  in  instances  or  in  generalities,  I'll  draw  her  out  and  see. 
Every  order,  where  there  are  orders,  and  every  class  (and  no 
place  is  without  them  where  women  are)  have  a  w^ay  of  judging  in 
common  with  their  order  or  class.  What  is  her  station  I  wonder 
in  her  own  opinion  ?  What  are  hev  exp'  tations  1  What  are  her 
notions  of  wedlock  ?  All  girls  regard  marriage  as  an  enviable  lot, 
or  a  necessar/  evil.  If  they  tell  us  they  don't,  it's  because  the 
right  man  hante  come.  And  therefore  I  never  mind  what  they 
say  on  this  subject.  I  have  no  doubt  they  mean  it ;  but  they  don't 
know  what  they  are  a  talking  about. 


THE    WOUNDS     OF    THE    HEART. 


77 


You,  Squire,  may  go  into  a  ball-room,  where  there  are  two  hun 
drfcd  women.  One  hundred  and  ninety-nine  of  them  you  will  pass 
with  as  much  indifterenco  as  one  hundred  and  ninety-nine  pullets  • 
but  the  two  hundredth  irresistibly  draws  you  to  her.  There  are  one 
hundred  handsomer,  and  ninety-nine  cleverer  ones  present ;  but  she 
alone  has  the  magnet  that  attracts  you.  Now,  what  is  that  mag- 
net  ?  Is  it  her  manner  that  charms  ?  is  it  her  voice  that  strikes  on 
one  of  those  thousand  and  one  chords  of  your  nervous  system,  and 
nijikes  it  vibrate,  as  sound  does  hollow  glass  ?  Or  do  her  eves 
affect  your  gizzard,  so  that  you  have  no  time  to  chew  the  cud' of 
reflection,  and  no  opportunity  for  your  head  to  judge  how  you  cau 
digest  the  notions  they  have  put  into  it  1  Or  is  it  animal  magnet- 
ism, or  what  the  plague  is  it  1 

You  are  strangely  affected ;  nobody  else  in  the  room  is,  and 
everybody  wonders  at  you.  But  so  it  is.  It's  an  even  chance  if 
you  don't  perpetrate  matrimony.  Well,  that's  a  thing  that  sharp- 
ens  the  eyesight,  and  will  remove  a  cataract  quicker  than  an  oculist ' 
can,  to  jave  his  soul  alive.  It  metamorphoses  an  angel  into  a  wo- 
man,  and  it's  plaguey  lucky  if  the  process  don't  go  on  and  change 
her  into  something  else. 

After  I  got  so  far  in  my  mc  Jitations,  I  lit  another  cigar,  and  took 
out  my  watch  to  look  at  the  time.     "  My  eyes,"  sais  I,  "  if  it  tante 
past  one  o'clock  at  night.     Howsomever,  it  aint  often  I  get  a 
chance  to  be  alone,  and  I  will  finish  this  here  weed,  at  any  rate.' 
Arter  which  I  turned  in.     The' following  morning  I  did  not  rise  as 
early  as  usual,  for  it's  a  great  secret  for  a  man  never  to  be  in  the 
way,  especially  in  a  house  like  Peter's,  where  his  daughters  had,  in 
course,  a  good  deal  to  see  to  themselves.     So  I  thought  I'd  turn 
over,  and  take  another  snoose  ;  and  do  you  know,  Squire,  that  is 
always  a  dreamy  one,  and  if  your  mind  aint  worried,  or  your  di- 
gestion askew,  it's  more  nor  probable  you  will  have  pleasant  ones. 
When  I  went  into  the  keeping-room,  I  found  Jessie  and  her 
sister  there,  the  table  set,  and  everything  prepared  for  me. 
"  Mr.  Slick,"  said  the  elder  one,""  your  breakfast  is  ready." 
"  But  where  is  your  father,"  said  I,  "  and  Doctor  Ovey  ?" 
"  Oh,  they  have  gone  to  the  next  harbor,  Sir,  to  see  a  man  who 
IS  very  ill  there.     The  Doctor  left  a  message  for  you ;  he  said  he 
wanted  to  see  you  again  very  much,  and  hoped  to  find  you  here  on 
his  return,  which  will  be  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.     He 
desired  me  to  say,  if  you  sailed  befo-e  he  got  back,  he  hoped  you 
would  leave  word  what  port  he  would  find  you  in,  as  he  would  fol- 
low you." 

"  Oh,"  said  I,  "  we  shall  not  go  hoforo  to-morrovr',  at  the  earliest, 
so  he  will  be  in  very  good  time.  But  who  in  the  world  is  Doctor 
Ovey  ?  TIo  is  the  most  singular  mau  I  ever  met.  He  is  very  e<> 
centric ;  aint  he  T 


78 


THE     WOUNDS     OP    THE     HEART. 


i^\ 


ill  ,  * 


*  .,: 


"  I  don't  know  who  he  is,"  she  replied.  "  Father  agrees  with 
you.  He  says  he  talks  sometimes  as  if  he  was  daft ;  but  that,  I 
believe,  is  only  because  he  is  so  learned.  He  has  a  house  away  back 
in  the  forest,  where  he  lives  occasionally  ;  but  the  greater  part  of 
the  year  he  wanders  about  the  woods,  and  camps  out  like—." 
She  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  brought  out  the  reluctant  word  : 
"  an  Indian.  He  knows  the  name  of  every  plant  and  flower  in  the 
country,  and  their  uses ;  and  the  nature  of  every  root,  or  baric,  or 
feaf  that  ever  was ;  and  then  he  knows  all  the  ores,  and  coal  mines, 
and  everything  of  that  kind.  He  is  a  great  hand  at  stuffing  birds 
and  animals,  and  has  some  of  every  kind  there  is  in  the  province. 
As  for  butterflies,  beetles,  and  those  sorts  of  things,  he  will  chase 
them  like  a  child  all  day.     His  house  is 


a  regular 


I  don't 
recollect  the  word  in  English  ;  in  Gaelic  it  is  "  tiffh  neonachais.'^ 

"  Museum  ?"  said  J. 
„      "  Ah,  that's  it,"  said  she. 

"  He  can't  have  much  practice,"  I  said,  "  if  ho  goes  racing  and 
chasing  over  the  country  that  way,  like  a  run-away  engine." 

"  He  don't  want  it.  Sir,"  she  replied  ;  "  he  is  very  well  off.  He 
says  he  is  one  of  the  richest  men  in  the  country,  for  he  don't  spend 
half  his  income,  and  that  any  man  who  does  that  is  wealthy.  He 
•idys  he  aint  a  Doctor.  Whether  he  is  or  not,  I  don't  know  ;  but 
he  makes  wonderful  cures.  Nothing  in  the  world  makes  him  so 
angry,  as  when  anybody  sends  for  him,  that  can  afford  a  doctor,  for 
he  don't  take  pay.  Now,  this  morning  he  stormed,  and  raved,  and 
stamped,  and  foamed  at  the  mouth,  as  if  he  was  mad ;  he  fairly 
swore,  a  thing  I  never  beard  him  do  before ;  and  he  seized  the 
hammer  that  he  chips  off  stones  with,  and  threatened  the  man  so, 
who  come  lor  him,  that  he  stood  witii  the  door  in  his  hand,  while 
he  begged  him  to  go." 

"  '  Oh,  Sir,'  said  he,  '  the  Squire  will  die  if  you  don't  go.' 

"  '  Let  him  die,  then,'  he  replied,  '  and  be  hanged.  What  is  it 
tome"?  It  serves  him  right.  Why  didn't  he  send  for  Doctor 
Smith  and  pay  him  1  Does  he  think  I  am  a  going  to  rob  that  man 
of  his  living  1  Be  off,  Sir — off  with  you  !  Tell  him  I  can't  come, 
and  won't  come ;  and  do  you  go  for  a  magistrate  to  make  his  will.' 

"  i^  s  soon  as  the  man  quitted  the  house,  his  fit  left  him. 

"'Well,'  said  he,  'Peter,  I  suppose  we  musn't  let  the  man 
perish,  after  all ;  but  1  wish  he  hadn't  sent  for  me,  especially  just 
now^,  fbr  I  want  to  have  a  long  talk  with  Mr.  Slick.' 

"  And  he  and  father  sot  off  immediately  through  the  woods." 

"  Suppose  we  beat  up  his  quarters,  Jessie,"  said  I.  "  I  should 
like  to  see  his  house  ar.d  collection  amazingly." 

"  Oh,"'  said  she,  '  so  should  I,  above  all  things  ;  but  I  wouldn't 
ask  hira  for  the  wor<d.     He'll  do  it  for  you,  1  know  he  will ;  for 


THE    WObNDS     OF    THE    HEA.BT, 


79 


he  says  you  are  a  man  after  his  own  heart.     You  study  nature  so ; 
and  I  don't  know  what  all  he  said  of  you." 

"Well,  well,"  sai.s  J,  "  old  trappi "  as  he  is,  see  if  I  don't  catch 
hira.  I  know  how  to  bait  the  trap,  so  he  will  walk  right  into  it. 
And  then,  if  he  nas  anything  to  eat  there,  I'll  show  him  how  to 
cook  it  woodsman  fashion.  I'll  teach  him  how  to  dress  a  salmon  ; 
roast,  boil,  or  bake.  How  to  make  a  bee-hunter's  mess ;  a  new 
way  to  do  his  potatoes  camp-fashion ;  and  how  to  dispense  with 
kitchen-ranges,  cabouses,  or  cooking-stoves.  If  I  could  only  knock 
over  some  wild  ducks  at  the  lake  here,  I'd  show  him  a  simple  way 
of  preparing  them  that  would  make  his  mouth  water,  I  know. 
Truth  is,  a  man  that  lives  in  the  country,  ought  to  know  a  little  of 
everything,  a'most,  and  he  can't  be  comfortable  if  he  don't.  But 
d<  \r  me,  I  must  be  a  movin'." 

So  I  made  her  a  bow,  and  she  made  me  one  of  her  best  court- 
seys.  And  I  held  out  my  hand  to  her,  but  she  didn't  take  it,  tho' 
I  see  a  smile  pluyin'  over  her  face.  The  fact  is,  it's  just  as  well 
she  didn't,  for  I  intended  to  draw  her  — .  Well,  it  ain't  no  matter 
wliat  I  intended  to  do ;  and,  therefore,  it  ain't  no  use  to  confess 
what  I  did'i't  realize. 

"  Truth  is,"  said  I,  lingering  a  bit,  not  to  look  disappointed,  "  a 
farmer  ought  to  know  what  to  raise,  how  to  live,  and  where  to 
save.  If  two  things  are  equally  good,  and  one  costs  money,  and 
the  other  only  a  little  trouble,  the  choice  ain't  difficult,  is  it  V* 

"  Mr.  Slick/'  sais  she,  "  are  you  a  farmer  ?" 

"  I  was  bred  and  born  on  a  flirm,  dear,"  sais  I,  "  and  on  one, 
too,  where  rothin'  was  ever  wasted,  and  no  time  ever  lost ;  where 
there  was  a  place  for  everything,  and  everything  was  in  its  place. 
Where  peace  and  plenty  reigned  ;  and  where  there  was  a  shot  in 
the  locker  for  the  minister,  another  for  the  poor." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  considered  them  game,  did 
you  ?"  said  she,  looking  archly. 

"  Thank  you,"  sais  1.  "But  now  you  are. making  ffame  of  me, 
Miss :  that's  not  a  bad  hit  of  yours,  though ;  and  a  shot  for  the 
bank  at  the  ecnd  of  the  year.  I  know  all  about  firm  things,  frorfi 
raisin'  Indian  corn  down  to  managing  a  pea-hen  ;  the  most  difficult 
thing  to  regulate,  next  to  a  wife,  1  ever  3ee." 

"  Do  you  live  on  a  farm  now  ?" 

"  Yes,  when  I  am  to  home,"  sais  I,  "  I  have  returned  again  to  the 
old  occupation  and  the  old  place  ;  for,  after  all,  what's  bred  in  the 
bone,  you  know,  is  hard  to  get  out  of  the  flesh,  and  home  is  home, 
however  homely.  The  stones,  and  the  trees,  and  the  brooks,  and 
the  hills,  look  like  old  friends — don't  vou  think  so  ?" 

"  I  should  think  so,"  she  said ;  "  but  I  have  never  returned  to 
my  home  or  my  people,  and  never  shall."  And  the  tears  rose  in 
her  eyes,  and  she  got  up  and  walked  to  the  window,  and  said,  with 


80 


I  I  > 


m 


I' ''» 


THE     WOUNDS     OF     THE     HEART. 


{|* 


her  back  towards  me,  as  if  she  was  looking  at  the  weather :  "  The 
Doctor  has  a  fine  day  for  liis  journey  ;  1  hope  he  will  return  soon. 
I  think  you  will  like  him." 

And  then  she  came  back  and  took  her  seat,  as  composed  as  if  I 
had  never  awakened  those  sad  thought:^.  Poor  thing !  I  knew 
what  was  passing  in  her  mind  as  well  as  if  those  eloquent  tears  had 
not  touched  my  heart.  Somehow  or  another,  it  appears  to  me, 
like  a  stumblin'  horse,  I  am  always  a  striking  my  foot  agin  some 
stone,  or  stump,  or  root,  that  any  fellow  might  sec  with  half  an 
eye.  She  forced  a  smile,  and  said  : 
"Are  you  married.  Sir?" 

"  Married  !"  sais  I,  "  to  be  sure  I  am  ;  I  married  Flora." 
"You  must  think  me  as  innocent  as  she  was,  to  believe  that," 
she  said,  and  laughed  at  the  idea.     "  How  many  children  have 
you  ?" 

"  Seven,"  sais  I : 

"  Richard  R.,  and  Ira  C, 
Betsey  Anne,  and  Jessie  B., 
Sary  D.,  Eugeen — E, 
And  Iren — ee." 
"  I  have  heard  a  great  deal  of  you,  Mr.  Slick,"  she  said,  "  but 
you  are  the  queerest  man  I  ever  see.     You  talk'  so  serious,  and 
yet  you  are  so  full  of  fun." 

"  That's  because  I  don't  pretend  to  nothin',  dear,"  sais  I ;  "  I  am 
just  a  nateral  man.  There  is  a  time  for  all  things,  and  a  way  to 
do  'em,  too.  If  1  have  to  freeze  down  solid  to  a  thing,  why,  then, 
ice  is  the  word.  If  there  is  a  thaw,  then  fun  and  snow-ballin'  is 
the  ticket.  I  listen  to  a  preacher,  and  try  to  be  the  better  for  his 
argufying,  if  hu  has  any  sense,  and  will  let  me ;  and  I  listen  to  the 
violin,  and  dance  to  it,  if  it's  in  tune,  and  played  right.  I  like  my 
pastime,  and  one  day  in  seven  is  all  the  Lord  asks.  Evangelical 
people  say  he  wants  the  other  six.  Let  them  state  day  and  date, 
and  book  and  page  for  that,  for  I  won't  take  their  word  for  it.  So 
I  won't  r"  mcc  of  a  Sunday  ;  but  show  me  a  pretty  gall,  and  give 
me  good  music,  and  see  if  I  don't  dance  any  other  day.  I  am  not 
a  droll  man,  dear,  but  I  say  what  I  think,  and  do  what  I  please,  as 
long  as  I  know  I  ain't  saying  or  doing  wrong.  And  if  that  ain't 
poetry,  it's  truth,  that's  all." 

"  1  wish  you  knew  the  Doctor,"  said  she ;  "  I  don't  understand 
these  things,  but  you  are  the  only  man  I  ever  met  that  talked  like 
him,  only  he  hante  the  fun  you  have ;  but  he  enjovs  fun  beyond 
everything.  I  must  say  I  rather  like  him,  though  he  is  odd,  and  1 
am  sure  you  would,  for  you  could  comprehend  manv  thim^s  ho 
says  that  I  don't."  '         ^ 

"It  strikes  me,"  sais  I  to  myself,  "for  I  thought,  puttin'  this  and 
that  together;  her  rather  likin'  him,  and  her  desire  to  see  his 


THE     WOUNDS     OF    THE    HEAST. 


81 


ildren  have 


house,  and  her  tryln'  to  flatter  me  that  I  talked  like  him ;  that, 
porhaj)s,  like  her  young  Gtelic  friend's  brother,  who  dreamed  of 
the  silver  dollars,  she  might  have  had  a  dream  of  him." 

So,  sais  I,  "  I  have  an  idea,  Jessie,  that  there  is  a  subject,  if  he 
talked  to  you  upon,  you  could  understand." 

"  Oh,  nonsense,"  said  she,  rising  and  laughing ;  "  now  do  you  go 
on  board  and  get  me  your  book,  and  I  will  go  and  see  about  dinner 
for  the  Doc —  for  my  father  and  you." 
Well,  I  held  out  my  han  ^  and  said, 

"Good-morning,  Miss  Jes. ..  Recollect,  when  I  bring  you  the 
book,  that  you  must  pay  the  forfeit." 

She  dropt  my  hand  in  a  minute,  stood  up  as  straight  as  a  tragedy 
actress,  and  held  her  head  as  high  as  the  Queen  of  Sheby.  She 
gave  me  a  look  I  shan't  very  easily  forget,  it  was  so  full  of  scorn 
and  pride. 

"  And  you,  too,  Sir,"  said  she,  "  I  didn't  expect  this  of  yoM," 
and  then  left  the  room. 

"  llullo  !"  sais  I,  "  who's  half-cracked  now — you  or  the  Doctor  ? 
It  appears  to  me  it's  six  of  one  and  half-a-dozen  of  the  other;"  and 
I  took  my  hat  and  walked  down  to  the  beach,  and  hailed  a  boat. 

About  four,  I  returned  to  the  house,  and  brought  with  me,  as  I 
promised,  the  "  Cock-maker."  When  I  entered  the  room,  I  found 
Jessie  there,  who  received  me  with  her  usual  ease  and  composure. 
She  was  trimming  a  work-bag,  the  sides  of  which  were  made  of 
the  inner  rind  of  the  birch-tree,  and  beautifully  worked  with  por- 
cupine quills  and  moose  hair. 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  that  is  the  most  delicate  thing  I  ever  saw  in  all 
my  born  days.  Creation,  how  that  would  be  prized  in  Boston ! 
How  on  earth  did  you  learn  to  do  that  ?"  sais  I. 

"  Why,"  said  she,  with  an  effort  that  evidently  cost  her  a  strug- 
gle,  "my  people  make  and  barter  them  at  the  Fort  at  the  north- 
west, for  things  of  more  use.     Indians  have  no  money." 

It  was  the  first  time  I  had  heard  so  distinct  an  avowal  of  her 
American  origin,  and  as  I  saw  it  brought  the  color  to  her  face,  I 
thought  I  had  discovered  a  clue  to  her  natural  pride,  or,  more  pro- 
perly, her  sense  of  the  injustice  of  the  world,  which  is  too  apt  to 
look  down  upon  this  mixed  race  with  open  or  ill-concealed  con 
tempt.  The  scurvy  opens  old  sores,  and  makes  them  bleed 
afresh,  and  an  unfeeling  fellow  does  the  same.  Whatever  else  I 
may  be,  I  am  not  that  man,  thank  fortune.  Indeed,  I  am  rather  a 
dab  at  dressin'  bodily  ones,  and  I  won't  turn  my  back  in  that  line, 
with  some  simples  I  know  of,  on  any  doctor  that  ever  trod  in  shoe- 
leather,  with  ail  his  compounds,  phials,  and  stiptics. 

In  a  gineral  way,  they  know  just  as  much  about  their  business  a.=i 
a  donkey  does  of  music,  and  yet  both  of  them  practice  all  day. 
They  don't  make  no  improvements.     They  are  like  the  birds  of  tha 
4* 


im 


82 


THE    WOUNDS     OF    THE    HEAP" 


p     i : 


?      . 


air,  and  the  beasts  of  the  forest.  Swallows  build  their  ncoiS  year 
after  year,  and  generation  after  generation,  in  the  identical  same 
fAshion,  and  moose  winter  after  winter,  and  century  after  century, 
tti'i'ays  follow  each  other's  tracks.  They  consider  it  safer,  it  aint 
so  laborious,  and  the-  crust  of  the  snow  don't  hurt  their  shins.  If  a 
critter  is  such  a  fool  as  to  strike  out  a  new  path  for  himself,  the 
rest  of  the  herd  pass,  and  leave  him  to  worry  on,  and  he  soon  hears 
the  dogs  in  pursuit,  and  is  run  down  and  done  for.  Medical  men 
act  in  the  same  manner. 

Brothel  Eldad,  the  doctor,  used  to  say  to  me  when  riggin'  him 
on  the  subject : 

"  Sam,  you  are  the  most  conceited  critter  I  ever  knew.  You 
have  picked  up  a  few  herbs  and  roots,  that  have  some  virtue  in 
them,  but  not  strength  enough  for  us  to  give  a  place  to  in  the  phar- 
macopoeia of  medicine." 

"  Pharmacopia  ]"  sais  I,  "  why,  what  in  natur  is  that  1  What 
the  pliigue  does  it  mean  ?     Is  it  bunkum  1" 

"  You  had  better  not  talk  on  the  subject,"  said  he,  "  if  you  don't 
know  the  tarms." 

"  You  might  as  well  tell  me,"  sais  I,  "  that  I  had  better  not 
speak  English  if  I  can't  talk  gibberish.  But,"  sais  I,  "without 
'oking,  now,  when  you  take  the  husk  off  that,  and  crack  the  nut, 
what  do  you  call  the  kernel  1" 

"  Why,"  sais  he,  "it's  a  dispensary ;  a  book  containin'  rules  for 
compoundin'  medicines." 

"  Well,  then,  it's  a  receipt-book,  and  nothin'  else,  arter  all.  Why 
the  plague  can't  you  call  it  so  at  once,  instead  of  usin'  a  word  that 
would  break  the  jaw  of  a  German  ?" 

"  Sam,"  he  replied,  "  the  poet  says  with  great  truth, 


' '  A  little  learning  is  a  dangerous  thing, 
Drink  deep,  or  touch  not  the  Pierian  spring. 


"  Dear,  dear,"  said  I,  "  there  is  anothei'  strange  sail  hove  m 
sight,  as  I  am  alive.     What  flag  does  '  Pierian'  sail  under  V 

"The  magpies,"  said  he,  with  the  air  of  a  man  that's  a  goin'  to 
hit  you  hard.  "  It  is  a  spring  called  Pierus  after  a  gentleman  of 
that  name,  whose  daughters,  that  were  as  conceited  as  you  be,  were 
changed  into  magpies  by  the  Muses,  for  challenging  them  out  to 
sing.  All  pratin'  fellows  like  you,  who  go  about  runnin'  down 
doctors,  ought  to  be  sarved  in  the  same  way." 

"  A  critter  will  never  be  run  down,"  said  1,  "  who  will  just  take  the 
trouble  to  get  out  of  the  way,  that's  a  fact.  Why  on  airth  couldn't 
the  poet  have  said  Magpian  Spring,  then  all  the  world  would  under- 
stand him.  No,  the  lines  would  have  had  more  sense  if  they  had 
run  this  way  : 


^jlfi 


THE  WOUNDS  OF  THE  HEART. 

'•  *  A  little  physic  is  a  dangerous  thing  ; 

Drink  deep,  or  drink  not  of  the  doctor's  spring,"  ' 


83 


Well,  it  made  him  awful  mad;  sais  he,  "You  talk  of  treating 
wounds  as  all  unskilful  mer.  do,  who  apply  balsams  and  trash  of 
that  kind,  that  half  the  time  turns  the  wound  into  an  ulcer;  and 
then  when  it  is  too  late,  the  doctor  is  sent  for,  and  sometimes  to 
get  rid  of  the  sore,  he  has  to  amputate  the  limb.  Now,  what  does 
your  receipt-book  say  ?" 

"  Jt  sais,"  sais  I,  "  that  natur  alone  makes  the  cure,  and  all  you 
got  to  do,  is  to  stand  by,  and  aid  her  in  her  efforts." 

"  That's  all  very  well,"  said  he,  "  if  nature  would  only  tell  you 
what  to  do,  but  nature  leaves  you  like  a  Yankee  quack  as  you  are, 
to  guess."   . 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "I  am  a  Yankee,  and  I  aint  above  ownin'  to  it, 
and  so  are  you,  but  you  seem  ashamed  of  your  broughtens  up,  and 
I  must  say  I  don't  think  you  are  any  great  credit  to  them.  Natur, 
though  you  don't  know  it,  because  you  are  all  for  art,  does  tell  you 
what  to  do,  in  a  voice  so  clear  you  can't  help  hearing  it,  and  in 
language  so  plain,  you  can't  help  understandin'  it.  For  it  don't 
use  chain  shot  words  like  '  pharmacopoeia'  and  *  Pierian,'  and  so  on, 
that  is  neither  Greek  nor  Latin,  nor  good  English,  nor  vulgar 
tongue.  And  more  than  that,  it  shows  you  what  to  do.  And  the 
woods,  and  the  springs,  and  the  soil  is  full  of  its  medicines  and 
potions.  Book  doctorin'  is  like  book  farmin',  a  beautiful  thing  in 
theory,  but  ruination  in  practice." 

"  Well,"  said  he,  with  a  toss  of  his  head,  "  this  is  very  good 
stump  oratory,  and  if  you  ever  run  agin  a  doctor  at  an  election,  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  you  -  n  it,  for  most  people  will  join  you  in 
pullin'  down  your  superl     ,." 

That  word  superiors  grigged  me,  thinks  I,  "  My  boy,  I'll  just  take 
that  expression,  roll  it  up  into  a  ball,  and  shy  it  back  at  you,  in  a 
way  that  will  make  you  sing  out,  pen  and  ink,  I  know.  "  Well," 
sais  I,  quite  mild,  (I  am  always  mild  when  I  am  mad,  a  keen  razor 
is  always  smooth);  "have  you  any  other  thing  to  say  about 
natur '?" 

"  Yes,"  sais  he,  "  do  you  know  what  healin'  by  the  first  intention 
is,  for  that  is  a  nateral  operation  1     Answer  me  that,  will  you  1" 

"  i  ou  mean  the  second  intention,  don't  you  ?"  sais  }. 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  I  mean  what  I  say." 

"  Well,  Eldad,"  sais  I,  "  my  brother,  I  will  answer  both.  First, 
about  the  election,  and  then  about  the  process  of  healin',  and  after 

thnf",  \Vf»  ■won'*'   oTfrna  nn  rpni-o     fi\r>  -it/mi    rtai-   c./-v   Vi/->f    oIittoito     T  nrr.  nfV.n5/^ 

you  will  hurt  my  feelins.     First,"  sais  I,  "  I  have  no  idea  of  runnin' 
agin  a  doctor  either  at  an  election  or  elsewhere,  so  make  yoursolf 


r    f 


!l    1 

1 
■1 

\ 

■ 

1 

i 

y 

■i 

■» 

84 


THE     WOUNDS    OF    THE    HEART, 


'11 


quite  easy  on  that  score,  for  if  I  did,  as  he  is  my  superior,  I  should 
be  sure  to  ^^et  the  worst  of  it."  j      i         , 

«'  How,  Sam,"  said  he,  looldn'  quite  pleased,  seein'  me  kinder 
knock  under  tliat  way. 

"  VVliy  dod  drot  it,"  sais  I,  "  Eldad,  if  I  was  such  a  born  fool  as 
to  run  agm  a  doctor,  his  clothes  would  IJI  mine  so  chock  fill  ot 
asafoetida  and  brimstone,  I'd  smell  strong  enough  to  pysen  a  poll 
cat      1  iievv  !  the  very  idea  makes  me  sick  ;  don't  cume  any  -.learer, 
or  I  shall  faint.     Oh,  no,  I  shall  give  my  superiors  a  wide  berth 
depend  upon  it.     Then,"  sais  I,  "  secondly,  as  to  healin'  by  the  first 
intentior,  1  have  heard  of  it,  but  never  saw  it  practised  yet      A 
doctors  first  intention  is  to  make  money,  and  the  second  is  to  heal 
the  won  id.     You  have  been  kind  encigh  to  treat  me  to  a  bit  of 
poetry,  now  I  won't  be  in  your  debt,  sc  1  will  just  give  you  two 
lines  in  return.     Arter  you  went  to  Philadelphia  to  study,  Minister 
used  t5  make  me  Icarn  poetry  twice  a  week.     All  his  books  had 
pencil  marks  in  the  margin,  agin  all  the  tid  bits,  and  I  had  to  learn 
more  or  less  of  these  at  a  time,  according  to  their  length.     Among 
others,  I  remember  two  verses  that  just  suit  you  and  me. 

"  •  To  tongue  or  pud.linfr  thou  hat    ,  o  pretence. 
Learning  thy  talent  is,  but  mine  is  sense.'  " 

"Sam"  said  he,  and  he  colored  up,  and  looked  choked  with 
rage,      feam. ' 

"Dad,''  sais  I,  and  it  stopped  him  in  a  minute.  It  was  the 
Jast  syllable  of  his  name,  and  when  we  was  boys,  1  alwa-s  called 
him  Dad,  and  as  he  was  older  than  me,  I  sometimes  called  him 
Daddy  on  that  account.  It  touched  him,  1  see  it  did.  Sais  I 
Dad,  give  me  your  daddle,  fun  is  fun,  and  we  may  carry  our  fun 
too  far  and  we  shook  hands.  "  Daddy,"  sais  I,  «  .ince  I  became 
an  authoi-^  and  honorary  corresponding  laembe-  of  the  Slancr. 
whanger  Society,  your  occupation  and  mine  aiivt  much  unlike 
IS  it  ' 

"How'?"  said  he. 

livin^^^'^'  "^'''^'"  ^^'^  ^'  "^''''  ''"^  "P  ^^'^  ^''''^'  '''"'^  '  '^'^^  "P  ^^° 

"  Well,"  sais  he,  "I  give  less  pain,  at  my  rate,  and  besides,  I  do 

more  good,  for  I  make  the  patient  leave  a  legacy  to  posterity,  by 

furnishing  instruction  in  his  own  body."  ^      ^ 

"  You  don't  need  to  wait  for  dissection  for  che  bequest,"  sais  I 

for  niany  a  fellow  afler  amputation,  has  said  to  you,  '  aJen.i  see ' 

but  why  IS  sawing  oft'  a  leg  an  unprofitable  thing?     Do  you  give 

tup?     Because  It's  always  6oo^/m-."  0'      b*>« 

J'i^\^"'^ "'"''^  he,  "why  is  an  author  the  laziest  man  in  the 

p  \   ,r°  ^'''^""  ^^  ^"^*^  ^P-     l^^^iiuse  he  is  most    ,.  his  time 


I 


TBK    WOnMDS    OF    TTE 


BK^BT. 


% 


•e  the  oJd  six  enoe  and  »n  },:»'       i  '^  f^"^^  ^^^  ^e. 

never  see  a  feller  havCch  "  irits  n  rn^'rr  'T  '*^''^"»«  y""'     ' 
r  i  :^  ?  "  ^'"''  '"  "'^^  ^^^*^  5  do  you  know  what 

your  sou„d,  excellent  judmei  "  will  J.i  f"" !""'  ""<*  ''^'" 

dune  under  the  peculii  c.Cmsta*  L"^""  "'^  *">"'  '^  l^^'  '»  - 

JusticeTU'hVtlk^rndvelrilhT  ""  T  "°  '-^  "- 
"Oh,  no,"  sal    I,  '.Y^vi7■it  wa    f?  fT  ?^  '^  '"''"■'•  S"™?  " 

apS;™;  ::i:;™i,!:.^^^^^^  a  ,o„d 

I  hope  It  ain't  an  affair  of  law  "  sairl Vp  l!.  n  i  ^  •  t. 
deaths  if  I  had  done  something  dkaSi  b:d''''"'  ''^''^'^'''^  '^ 
<^^r^^r;el,7tr:^j;:::^J^^'-^-^  alibi  a  nonjoinder,  a 
a  ton^peranee  wink,  or  an  orange  n^d  "^^^^-^^.^^m'  sign  to  a  juror, 
cnssed  quirk  or  n^ibble  or  anotW  l"  iS"'^'""^  J"^»^'  «^  ^««^e 
No,  it  ain't  that."  ^^^'^'  '^''"^^  ^^^^^  ^e  through  it. 

"  What  is  it  then  ?  " 

''  Why,"  sais  I,  a  bustin'  out  a  larfin    ''To,.,  *  j     , 

tunes  with  the  ju.npin'  toothache  "'  """^'^  ^''^'^  ^«°^«- 

-jr'i'hZife'-'a^^wiS'sii^rti^.-  ^"'^  -  "^^-■'^"^  I 

healing  b„di^  on{,  1\?I''  '  Tf ".  '"J'^'^'f  ™ther  a  dab  at 
experfenoe.  «IT.';  .,o.  .°,'v'"  "^-""^  htart,  1  haven't  had  th, 
«iut  consulted. "  "HuMt  It^Z^.^'tT"""'  f  S""''  """  "^  '=»"'•'« 
-U..bont  the  r^^^^^r^^.'^^'Z^t'J^ 


W'h 


8Q 


THE  WOUNDS  OF  THE  HEART. 


.   k  . 


i;  :  It 


ni: 


f- 


7^1  {.         ;r  vf ■'  f'^^"'  ^'''^  '^  *^'"S  tbat  swells  and  contracts, 
and  keeps  the  blood  a  inovin ;  a  sort  of  central  post-offce  that 
communicates  with  al    the  great  lines  o.d  has  way  stations  to  all 
the  remote  ^arts.     Like  that,  there  is  no  sleep  in  it  day  or  night 
Love,  hope  fear,  despair,  disappointment,  ambition,  pride,  supplii 
cation,  craft,  cant,  fraud,  piety,  speculation,  secre  s,  tenderness, 
bitterness,  duty,  disobedience,  truth,  falsehood,  grativide,  humbi:^ 
and  ad  sor  s  of  such  ^  ..ngs  pass  through  it  or  wait  t<Ii  called  for  ' 
they     are   har,  '     All  these  are  dispersed  by  railways,  expresses 
ast  and  slow  coaches  and  carriers.     By  a  figure  of  speech  all 
these  things  are  sumtotalized,  and  if  put  on  paper,  the  depository 
IS  called   the  post-ofhce,  and   the  place  where  they  are  conceived 
and  hatched  and  matured,  the  heart. 

Well,  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  has  any  feeling.  Thev  are 
merely  the  edifices  respectively  designed  for  these  operations 
ihe  thing  and  Its  contents  are  in  one  case  called  the  heart-  b.it 
he  contents  only  of  the  other  are  called  the  mail.  Literally 
threforc,  the  heart  is  a  muscle,  or  some  such  an  affair,  and  nothin.^ 
more  ;  but  figuratively  it  is  a  general  term  that  includes,  expresses" 
and  stands  for  all  these  thing;,  together.  We  talkof  it,  therefore  as 
^.iving,  animated,  responsible  being  that  thinks  for  itself,  and  acts 
through  Its  agents.  Jt  is  either  our  spiritual  part,  or  somethinc. 
spiritual  within  us.  Subordinate  or  independent  of  us— guidincr  n? 
obeying  us-mfluencihg  or  influenced  by  us.  We  speak  of  it,1ind 
othei^  treat  it  as  separate,  fl)r  they  and  we  sav  our  heart  We 
give  It  a  color  and  a  character  :  it  may  be  a  black  heart  or  a  base 
heart ;  It  may  be  a  brave  or  a  cowardly  one ;  it  may  be  a  sound 
oi  a;.eak  heart  also,  and  a  true  or  a  false  one;  generous  or 
ungrateful ;  kind  or  malignant,  and  so  on. 

It  strikes  me  natur  would  have  been  a  more  suitable  one  •  but 
poets  got  hold  of  it,  and  they  bedevil  everything  they  touch 
Instead  of  speaki.g  of  a  critter's  heart,  therefore,  it  would  to  m^ 
mind  have  been  ar  better  to  have  spoke  of  the  naturof  the  animal 
for  I  go  the  whole  hog  for  human  natur.  But  I  suppose  nobody 
w;ould  understanu  me  if  I  did,  and  would  say  I  had  no  heart  to  say 
so  111  take  It  therefore  a:  I  fina  it-a  thing  having  a  body  or 
substance  that  can  be  hurt,  and  a  spirit  that  can  be  grfeved 

Well  as  such,  I  don't  somehow  think  ministers  in  a  general  wav 
know  how  to  treat  it.  The  heart,  in  its  common  accei-ation  I 
very  sensitive  and  must  be  handled  gently  ;  if  grief  is  "there  it 
mustbe  soothed  and  consoled,  and  hope  called  in  to  open  views'cf 
better  things  If  disappointment  has  left  a  sting,  the  right  way  is 
to  show  a  sufferer  ,t  might  have  been  wuss,  or  that  if  his  wishes 
had  been  fulli  led,  they  might  have  led  to  something  more  disas- 
trous. Tf  pride  has  been  wounded,  the  patient  must  be  humored 
by  agreemcT  with  him,  in  the  nrst  instance,  that  he  has  been  shame 


THE  WOUNDS  OF  THE  HEART 


87 


fully  used  ;  (for  that  admits  his  right  to  feel  hurt,  which  is  a  great 

cirn^^lete  tfo.- h"'  '^'  convinced  he  onght  to  be  ashame'd  to 
ackno^v ledge  it,  for  he  is  superior  to  his  enemy,  and  in  reality  so 
tar  above  him  it  would  on]y  gratify  him  to  tliini;  he  was  of  consT 
qucnce  enough  to  be  hated.     If  he  has  met  with  a  severe  pecuniary 

OSS  in  business,  he  ought  to  be  told  it's  the  fortune  of  trfde  ;  how 

SonVrv  Ifh'  f"r''  ^^'"^  ^^'"^  ^""^  --^  expect  losse" 
aiTd  afteS  hi  U  '^"  "^"^  •' ''•'  ''  ^^'^  ^"^^  ^'''  mercantile  credit, 
and  after  all,  he  will  never  miss  it,  except  in  a  figure  in  the  bottom 
o  his  balance-sheet,  and  besides,  riches  aint  happiness,  and  how 
httle  a  man  can  get  out  of  them  at  best;  and  a  mhi  .te^  ouc^ht  to 
be  abb.  to  have  a  good  story  to  tell  him,  with  some  point  in  i  for 
there  is  a  great  deal  of  sound  philosophy  in  a  good  anecdote.    ' 

Astor  r^     ''''''        '""'^'"'^  •  "  ^'^  ^^"  ^^^^  ^'^'  «f  J^hn  Jacob 
"  No,  never." 

"  Y'if '•."';^  c/'^°^''  i'?^  ^'^^^'  t^^'  ^icJ^-cst  man  in  all  the  une- 
varsal  United  States  of  America?  The  man  that  owns  all  the 
biwn   and  white  bears,  silver-gray  and  jet-black  foxes,   sables! 

th  fhU   °r  "''''T''  ^'"""^  ^^"'^'•^^^'  ^"^  ^''^'y  created  critte; 
th.it  has  a  fur  jscicet,  away  up  about  the  North  Pole,  and  lets  them 

wear  them,  for  furs  don't  keep  well,  moths  are  death  on  'em,  S 
too  maiiy  at  a  time  glut  the  market ;  so  he  lets  them  run  1 11  he 
wants  thern  and  then  sends  and  skins  them  alive  in  spring  when  i 
mn  t  too  cold,  and  waits  till  it  grows  again  ?  " 

'I  No,  never,"  sais  the  man  with  theloss.' 

"  Well,  if  vou  had  been  strlpt  stark  naked  and  turned  loose  that 

thZdl;liS"  '^'  ''""^' "'°"  •" ''''  ''■'-''  ^-^  ^^  -'^  ^" 

Anl^^'  ^^Jf  K  f^'^P^^fcher,  "perhapp  you  can  tell  me  who 
doc.;  and  If  nobody  else  does,  I  think  his  claim  won't  be  disputed 
in  no  court  under  heaven.  Don't  you  know  him  ?  Go  and  see 
him.  He  will  make  your  fortune  as  he  has  done  for  many  others. 
He  IS  the  richest  man  you  ever  heard  of.     He  owns  the  A^fnr 

n"",:  No™  %  ""r  '■°i'.^''".'"  i^  ^*'«°^ ""'"  -™  "'■^'  '-" 

f"  ,u%  ,7  ^""^"^  ™'"'  •  ^'"^  ""  """W  s^y  that  with  ereat 
tiuth,  for  I  know  a  town  thafs  on  the  chart,  that  has  only  a  cturt- 

Qrblo"4Sf<;i['thVl1'ac.h  ""'^"""'^  ''"''  ^"^  '"^  "-"  °''- 

groltJoi'njSr"'  """"  ""^'^'  ""'  ="'^  '■'^  'Are  you  the 
" '  I  am  John  Jacob,'  said  he,  '  but  I  aint  great.     The  sun  is  so 

Clown  like  a  race-h^irse.' 


',:-ii 


88 


?HE    WOUNDS     OF    THE     HEART. 


W    : 


"'I  don't  mean  that,'  said  the  poor  man.  bowin'  and  hcnmn' 
pardon.  ^° 

" ♦  Oh,' sais  he,  'jQu  mean  great-grandflither,' laughh^fj.     'No  I 
hante  come  that  yet;  but  Astoria  Arm  Oregon,  my  granddaufrhter 
says  I  am  to  be  about  the  fore  part  of  next  June.'  °        ' 

^  "  Well,  the  man  see  he  was  getting  rigged,  so  he  came  to  t\w 
pmt  at  once.     Sais  he,  '  Do  you  want  a  clerk  1 ' 

" '  I  guess  I  do,'  said  he.     '  Are  you  a  good  accountant  ? ' 
" '  Have  been  accountant-book-keeper  and  agent  for  twenty-fivft 
years,'  sais  stranger. 

"  Well,  Johr  Jacob  see  the  critter  wouldn't  suit  him,  but  he 
thought  he  would  carry  out  the  joke.  Sais  he,  '  How  would  you 
like  to  take  charge  of  my  almighty  everlastin'  property? ' 

"  '  Delighted  ! '  says  the  goney. 

"  '  Well,'  said  Mr.  Astor,  '  I  am  tired  to  death  looking  after  if 
if  you  will  relieve  me  and  do  my  work,  I'll  give  you  what  I  get  out 
of  It  myself!' 

" '  Done ! '  said  the  man,  takin'  off  his  hat,  and  bowin'  do.vn  to 
the  ground,  '  I  am  under  a  great  obligation  to  you  ;  depend  upon 
It  you  will  get  a  good  account  of  it.' 

^  1?  '  /  ]!\?  ""^  i""""^^  °^  ^^''  '^^'^  '^''^''^  J^^ob.  '  Do  your  nart  faith- 
fully, (  Never  fear  me,'  said  the  clerk.)  «  and  honestly  I  will  fulfil 
mine.  All  I  get  out  of  it  is  my  board  and  clothing,  and  you  shall 
have  the  same.' 

"  Ah  !  my  friend,"  the  preacher  might  say,  "how  much  wisdom 
there  is  m  John  Jacob  Astor's  remark.  What  more  has  the  Queen 
of  England,  or  the  richest  peer  in  the  land,  out  of  all  their  riches 
tlian  *  their  board  and  clothing.'  So  don't  repine,  my  friend 
Cheer  up  !  I  will  come  and  fast  on  canvas  back  duck  with  you  to- 
morrow, for  it's  Friday;  and  whatever  lives  on  aquatic  food  is 
fishy -a  duck  is  twice  laid  fish.  A  few  glasses  of  champagne  at 
dmner,  and  a  cool  bottle  or  two  of  claret  after  will  set  vou  all 
right  again  in  a  jiffy." 

If  a  man's  wife  races  off  and  leaves  him,  which  aint  the  highest 
complimt.t  he  can  receive,  he  should  visit  him  ;  but  it's  most 
prudent  not  to  introduce  the  subject  himself.  If  broken-heart  talks 
of  It,  minister  shouldn't  make  light  of  it,  for  wounded  pride  is 
mighty  tender,  but  say  it's  a  dreadf  1  thing  to  leave  so  good,  so 
kind,  ho  indulgent,  so  liberal,  so  confidin'  a  man  as  you,  if  the  case 
wilMoear  it,  (m  a  general  way  it's  a  man's  own  fault) ;  and  if  it 
won  t  bear  it,  why  then  there  really  is  a  guiltv  man,  on  whom  he 
can  indulge  himself,  to  expend  a  few  flowers  of  speech.  And  arter 
restin  here  awhile,  he  should  hint  at  the  consolation  that  is  always 
offered,  "  of  the  sea  having  better  fish  than  ever  was  pulled  out  of 
It,    and  so  on. 

Well  the  whole  catalogue  oflTers  similar  topics,  and  if  a  man 


and  bcggin' 

n?.     '  No,  I 
nddaughter, 

ame  to  tlw 

nt?' 
twenty-fivft 

lim,  but  he 
would  you 


ng  after  it ; 
at  I  get  out 

n'  do.vn  to 
spend  upon 

:  Dart  faith- 

I  will  fulfil 

d  you  shall 

ich  wisdom 
i  the  Queen 
their  riches 
my  friend, 
'ith  you  to- 
tic  food  is 
impagne  at 
set  you  all 

the  highest 
:  it's  most 
heart  talks 
ed  pride  is 

0  good,  so 
if  the  case 
;  and  if  it 

1  whom  he 
And  arter 

t  is  always 
lied  out  of 

if  a  man 


TKl     WOFNDS    OF    THE 


HEABT 


89 


agin  tl,e  ^grai,', ;  he  will    h™  p,  epLrth^'^ff'"  "i""'  '^  '"'"'^'' 

all  the  nasty  particulars  of  thp  >,.      !u       u  ^^®  ^''"'  ^""^  ^^  confess 

who  with.  U  can't  do  notWn.  tHl  w"  ''^''''-  '^'  ^^'^^"'  ^"^  '^^ 
eral  terms  won't  do      He  mnS  I     ^^'^  C"nos.ty  is  satisfied,  gen- 

then  he  talks  to  hi  of  th?  devH* ?  '^'  ^'''^  ^^^"''^-  "^"^ 
and  brimstone  and  endless  Lni.hL.  ""f^^^^^^^We  place,  fire 
iie  hopes  to  be  happfh  fafLr  he  '-V  yf"''^  f  1"'^.^^"^  if  ever 
of  his  life:  for  the  eL  JeS  ;ule  iHt?" '"''''•'''^  ^^'  '^''  '''' 
"P  to  the  last  minute  when  t  ca^t  be  tin  J'"w"r'''  ^^^S'^^^» 
to  his  own  trade      Pprh.nl  ih  •  ^^^^^'     ^^^"'  ^^'erv  man 

«>yideais,  yotan'^^t  ^rirjI^'-Uf 'Z;r="--    '^"' 

7i«'s,  but  you  can't  force  them      Th.  ri^  i  A    ,  "  ^"^  ^"^  ^*'^- 

oir.  I  *i.i  .l:Votg:il"7as1S»:;<'J  '-<"X  ^-o-  where  I  left 
rated  she  felt  mortified  if  h^^S!  ?  [""'' '"  "  ^''y  'hat  indi- 
h«>.  else,  there  ™s1  re  spot  .Co"  '^t^lt^^"  "'  -"- 
thoughts  aljout  the  wounds  of  the  l,»,.f      j  '     "''.'"S  '"/  o"" 

'  made  up  ,„y  „,„d  Imust  I    'a'Te      creT  "v'' del.e  ""^  'T'' 

-- ,,/na..  -;\^e:eV"::^^,.s^:--.  -.. 

■-«:ir;:er^'sLTf;J:':,^';:::^;:;''^f,^ti''^'''f' 'r^  ^'-^ '"°^ 

™-o  leather,  tanneS  and  K  d  h'k  'l  t       ^  ,ht'^'' ""' "' 
hl».;k  velvet,  on  which  various  patterns V:   '  w^',,.!''.",  .,rL'.;r 

-se  iu  wor  J:„l|,l'^'  itt™  ,™'d -.t^l  -'"^^  ^»  --^"'. 

u  -7  h'ch  do  you  prefer  ?"  said  she. 
.       vVell,    sais  I,  "I  ain't  hardly  >Me  fo  fi^/M-rln      ti     i,     i 
's  more  delicate  and  more  tasteful     Lut     '^  r  ^*''''  '''''^' 

•ippearance      The  ofhpr  i«  m.      ri    '  '  ^  ''^^'^''  ^^-^"^opean  in 

«u  e  that  i    isn'    n?,i^!  ?  ^'''^  ''"'  "'""  ^°^'"trv,  and  I  ain't 

prize  th    mocc.  i.l  m5  ^"Th^?'  "^  ^  ^'t'-     ^"^'  ^  ^^'"'^  ^ 
incuts  all  tell  of  Xe  niSlie.'?^  '     "'"""'  '''''  '^'^''  '^^"^  ^'^«  ^^'^'^' 


I 


90 


THE     WOUNDS     OF    THE     HEA-RT. 


"  Well,  then,"  she  said,  "  it  shall  be  the  moccasins,  you  must 
have  them,  as  the  exchange  for  the  book." 

"  Oh,"  said  I,  taking  out  of  ray  pocket  the  first  and  second 
C  kmakers,  I  had  no  other  of  my  books  on  board,  and  giving 
theiii  to  her,  «'  I  am  afraid,  Miss,  that  I  either  said  or  did  some- 
thing to  offend  you  this  morning.  I  assure  you  I  did  not  mean  to 
do  so,  and  I  am  very  sorry  for  it." 

"No,  no,"  she  said,  "it  was  me;  but  my  temper  has  been 
greatly  tr'ed  since  I  came  to  this  country.  I  was  very  wrong,  for 
you  (and  she  laid  a  stress  on  that  word  as  if  I  was  an  exception,) 
have  been  very  kind  to  me." 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "Miss,  sometimes  there  are  things  that  try  us 
and  our  feelings,  that  we  don't  choose  to  talk  about  to  strangej-s, 
and  sometimes  people  annoy  us  on  these  subjects.  It  wouldn't  be 
right  of  me  to  pry  into  any  one's  secrets,  but  this  I  w'<ll  say,  anv 
person  that  would  vex  you,  let  him  be  who  he  will,  can  be  no  man, 
he'd  better  not  do  it  while  I  am  here,  at  any  rate,  or  he'll  have  to 
look  for  his  jacket  very  quick,  I  know." 

"  Mr,  Slick,"  she  said,  "  I  know  I  am  half  Indian,  and  some 
folks  want  to  make  me  feel  it." 

"  And  you  took  me  for  one  o'  them  cattle,"  said  I,  "  but  if  you 
knew  what  was  passin'  m  my  mind,  you  wouldn't  a  felt  anory,  i 
know."  ° 

"  What  was  it  ?  "  said  she,  "  for  I  know  you  won't  say  anything 
to  me  you  oughtn't  to.     What  was  it  ? " 

"  Well,"  sais  1,  "  there  is,  between  you  and  me,  a  young  lady 
here  to  the  southern  part  of  this  province  I  have  set  my  heart  on, 
though  whether  she  is  agoin'  to  give  me  hern,  or  give  me  the  mit' 
ten,  1  ain't  quite  sartified,  but  I  rather  kinder  sorter  guess  so,  than 
kinder  sorter  not  so."  I  just  throwed  that  in,  that  she  mightn't 
misunderstand  me.  "Well,  she  is  the  most  splendiferous  gall  I 
ever  sot  eyes  on,  since  I  was  created;  and,"  sais  1  to  myself,  "  now, 
here  is  one  of  a  different  style  of  beauty,  which  on  'em  is,  take  her 
all  in  all,  the  handsomest  %  " 

Half  Indian  or  half  Gaelic,  or  whatever  she  was,  she  was  a 
woman,  and  she  didn't  flare  up  this  time,  I  tell  you,  but  taking  up 
the  work-bag,  she  said  : 

"  Give  this  to  her,  as  a  present  from  me." 

Thinks  1,  "  My  pretty  brunette,  if  I  don't  get  the  heart  opened 
to  ine,  and  give  you  a  better  opinion  of  yourself,  and  set  you  all 
straight  with  mankind  in  general,  and  the  Doctor  in  particular, 
afore  I  leave  Ship  Harbor,  I'll  give  over  forever,  undervalyin'  the 
skill  of  ministers,  that's  a  fact.  That  will  do  for  trial  number  one, 
by  and  bye  "'U  make  trial  number  two." 

Taking  u^  the  "  Clockmaker,"  and  looking  at  it,  she  said  :  "Is  this 


THE     WOUNDS     OP    THE    HEAET, 


91 


s,  you  must 

and  second 
,  and  giving 
)!•  did  some- 
not  mean  to 

er  has  been 
f  wrong,  for 
1  exception,) 

that  try  us 
o  strangers, 
wouldn't  be 
c'll  say,  any 

be  no  man, 
le'll  have  to 

1,  and  some 

'  but  if  you 
elt  angry,  i 

ly  anything 

young  lady 
y  heart  on, 
me  the  mit- 
ess  so,  than 
16  mightn't 
^rous  gall  I 
self,  '•  now, 
is,  take  her 

she  was  a 
t  taking  up 


jart  opened 
set  you  all 
particular, 
'valyin'  the 
umber  one, 

:d:  "Is  this 


boc^k^all  true,  Mr.  Slick  !     Did  you  say  and  do  all  that's  set  down 

"  VVell,"  sais  I,  «' J  wouldn't  just  like  to  swear  to  eve.y  word  of 

t  but  most  of  It  IS  true,  though  some  things  are  embeSd  a 

httk,^  and  some  are  fancy  sketches.     But  t'hey  are  all  true  to 

to  understand  it,  who  .now  so  little,  and  Cten  so 'llltll '''  ^'^^ 

know^''  ''^^  ™''  ^''  ^^^''''"  '"^^  '^^'  "^•^^^  "'^t"r  i«.  ft>r  I  don't 

.1  J'"'/''!-*^^'',  ^  T'^  '™P^«  question,  ain't  it?  and  any  one 
ha   reads  this  book  when  you  publish  it,  mmII  say,  "  Why  every 

0^  ftior^B.:;  PH  :t  'i:  ^".^  ^"^  ^^^^^^^^^^  ^^-  an'^we  s 

que  tion      But  I  1  take  a  bet  of  twenty  dollars,  not  one  in  a  hun 
dred  will  define  that  tarm  right  off  the  reel,  without  ZZZ      It 

mo  Altr '  T<::^f  \1";i"^^^'{  '^'^"-^^^  ''  ^  hackTouhom- 
mon  thingb.     I  could  a  told  her  what  natur  was  circumbendibuslv 

and  no  mistake,  though  that  takes  time.     But  to  de^e   t  bH    f; 

1  do.?'  'fl^l  '^'  ^'"'tr  "^'^  ''  '''y^  '^''  ''''  ^'  done  at  all,  wS 

1  do  1 1  think  It  can,  all  I  can  say  is,  as  galls  say  to  conundrums  ''I 

cant,  so  I  give  it  up.     What  is  it?"  "uaaiums,     i 

Perhaps  it's  my  own  fault,  for  dear  old  Mr.  Hopewell  used  to 

say,  "Sam,  your  head  ain't  like  any  one  elses.    Mos   m  n's 'Ids 

esemb  es  what  appears  on  the  water,  when  you  throw  a  stone  in 

.     Iherr-  IS  a  centre,  and  circles  form  round  it,  each  one  a  little 

JNow  you  set  off  on  the  outer  circle,  and  go  round  and   round 
ever  so  often,  until  you  arrive  at  the  centre^vhere  vou  ou  ditto 
have  started  from  at  first;  I  never  see  the  beat  of  you ''      ^ 
•'  It's  natur,"  sais  I,  "  Minister."  ^     ' 

;;  Natur,"  sais  he    "  what  the  plague  has  natur  to  do  with  it  ?  " 
^   Wiy,    saisi,   'can  one  man  surround  a  flock  of  sheep -J" 
VVhy,  what  nonsense,"  sais  he;  "of  course  he  can't."    * 
_     Well  that  s  what  this  child  can  do,"  sais  I.     "  I  make  a  ffood 
sizeable  ring-fence,  open  the  bars,  and  put  them  ir   fuiMf  it'f  ^oo 
small,  they  turn  and  out  agl-.'  like  wink,  and  they  wil    Lver  so 
much  as  look  at  it  a  second  time.     Well   when  i  get  then^^  there  I 
row  and  narrow  the  circle,  till  it's  all  solid  wool  and  mutton 

a  1  ilonr'  IT^  ''"''^'''  '''^  ^^  ^^'^'"-     ^'  ^''^^'^  time,  for     a^ 
all  alone,  and  have  no  one  to  help  me ;  but  thov  are  thi'  nt  In  J 

Now,  suppose  I  went  to  the  celitre  of  the  fill,  andlllrfed  "t 


R'd; 


^^SfW^'^W,^^*?'^!^?^; 


'%'^^i^^^^mfsiams'mt^mm'i^- 


7.::m^^ 


r^mmm^^^^^mimmmmm 


d'3 


THE     WOUNDS     OF     THE     HEART. 


m 


if'      'l 


111        * 


arter  them,  what  would  it  end  in  ?  Why,  I'de  run  one  down,  and 
have  hini,  and  that's  the  only  one  I  could  catch.  But  while  1  was 
a  chasin'  of  him,  all  the  rest  would  disperse  like  a  congregation 
artcr  church,  and  cut  oft'  like  wink,  each  on  his  own  way,  as  if  he 
war.  afraid  the  minister  was  a-goin  to  run  after  'em,  head  'em,  and 
fetch  'em  back  and  pen  'em  up  again." 

He  squirmed  his  face  a  little  at  that  part  about  the  congregation, 
1  consaited,  but  ^lidn't  say  nothin',  for  he  knew  it  was  true. 

"  Now,  my  reason,"  sais  1,  "  for  goin'  round  and  round  is,  I 
like  to  gather  up  all  that's  in  the  circle,  carry  it  with  me,  and 
stack  it  in  the  centre." 

Lord  !  what  fun  1  have  had  pokin'  that  are  question  of  Jessie's 
suddet.  to  fellows  since  then !     Sais  I,  to  Brother  Eldad  once, 

"  Dad,  we  often  talk  about  natur  ;  what  is  it  1 " 

"  Tut,"  sais  he,  "  don't  ask  me ;  every  fool  knows  what 
natur  is." 

"  Exactly,"  sais  I ;  "  that's  the  reason  I  came  to  you." 

He  just  up  with  a  book,  and  came  pla 'uy  near  lettin'  me  have 

it  right  agin  my  head  smash. 

"  Don^t  do  that,"  sais  I,  "  Daddy ;    I  was  only  joking ;   but 

what  is  it  ?  " 

Well,  he  paused  a  moment  and  looked  puzzled  as  a  fellow  does 
who  is  looking  for  his  spectacles,  and  can't  find  them  because  he 
has  shoved  them  up  on  his  forehead. 

"  Why,"  sais  he,  spreadin'  out  his  arm,  » it's  all  that  you  see, 
and  the  law  that  governs  it." 

Well,  it  warn't  a  bad  shot  that,  for  a  first  trial,  that's  a  fact.  It 
hit  the  target,  though  it  didn't  strike  the  ring. 

"  Oh,"  said  1,  "  then  there  is  none  of  it  at  night,  and  things  can't 
be  nivteral  in  the  dark." 

VVell,  he  seed  he  had  run  oft*  the  track,  so  he  braved  it  out.  "  I 
didn't  say  it  was  necessary  to  see  them  all  the  time,"  he  said. 

"Just  so,"  said  I,  "natur  is  what  you  see  and  what  you  don't 
see ;  but  then  feelin'  ain't  nateral  at  all.     It  strikes  me  that  if—" 

"  Didn't  1  say,"  said  he,  "  the  laws  that  govern  them  !  " 

"  Well,  where  are  them  laws  writ  1 " 

"  In  that  are  receipt-book  o'  yourn  you're  so  proud  of,"  said  he. 
"  What  do  you  call  it,  Mr.  Wiseacre? " 

"Then,  you  admit,"  sais  J,  "any  fool  cmi't  answer  that 
question  ?  " 

''Perh.'ips  you  can,"  sais  he. 

"  Oh,  Dad  !  "  sais  I,  "yon  picked  up  that  shot  and  throwcd  it 
back.  When  a  feller  does  that  it  shows  he  is  short  of  ammunition. 
But,  I'll  tell  you  what  my  opinion  is.  There  is  no  such  a  thing 
as  natur." 

"  What  1 "  said  he. 


THE     WOUNDS     OF    THE     HEART. 


93 


cnows   what 


Why  there  IS  no  such  a  thing  as  natur  in  reality ;  it  is  only  a 
figure  of  speech.     The  confounded  poets  got  hold  of  the  idea  and 
parson.hed  ,t  a.  they   have  the  word  heart,  and  talk  about  the 
voice  of  natur  and  its  sensations,  and  its  laws  and  its  simplicities 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing.     The  noise  water  makes  in  tumbL'  over 
stones  m  a  brook,  a  spluterin'  like  a  toothless  old  woman,  scoldin' 
^^'lth  a  mouthful!  of  hot  tea  in  her  lantern  cheek  is  called  ihe  voice 
of  natur  speaking  m  the  stream.     And  when  the  wind  blows  and 
scatters  about  all  the  blossoms  from  your  frui.  trees,  and  you  are 
a  ponderin'  over  the  mischief,  a  gall  comes  along  sid;  of  you  with 
a  book  of  poetry  in  her  hand  and  sals :  j       w  ux 

" '  Hark  !  do  you  hear  the  voice  of  natur  amid  the  trees  ?     Isn't 
it  sweet  ? 

"Well  it's  so  absurd  you  can't  help  laughin'  and  saying,^  '  No  ' 

^fwcrcHUcrV      ''''''''  ""^  "''*"'  '"''''"'        '  ^"^  '^  ''''^  ''  ^^"'^  '^^ 
"Well,  a  cultivated  field  which  is  a  work  of  art,  dressed  with 

artidcia  manures  and  tilled  with  artificial  tools,  perl4ps  by  steam, 
s  called  the  smihng  face  of  nat.vo.     .lore  nature  is  strong  and 

there  exhausted,  now  animated,  and  then  asleep.  At  the  poles, 
he  foitur  of  nature  are  all  frozen,  and  as  stiff  as  a  poker,  and  in 
he  West  Indies  burnt  up  to  a  cinder.  ^^  hat  a  pack  of  stuff  it  is » 
t  is  )ust  a  pretty  word  liko  pharmacop.da  and  pierian  spring,  and 

0  forth.  J  hate  poets,  stock,  lock,  and  barrel ;  the  whole%eed. 
bleed  and  generation  of  them.  If  you  see  a  she  one,  look  at  her 
stockings;  they  are  all  wrinkled  about  her  ankles,  and  her  shoes 
are  down  to  heel  and  her  hair  is  an  tangled  as  the  mane  of  a  two- 
year  Old  coit.  And  if  you  see  a  he  one,  you  see  a  mooney  sort  of 
nan  either  very  sad  or  so  wild-looking  you  think  he  is  haif-mad  ; 

he  oats  and  sleeps  on  earth,  and  that's  all.  The  rest  of  the  time  lie 
IS  sky-  iigh,  trying  to  find  inspiration  and  sublimity  like  Byron  in 
gm  and  water.     I  like  folks  that  have  common-sense."  ' 

what  il  natur  ?  "'''''  ^"^  "'^  '^''''^'  ^""'"^  ^''''^  ^'^  "'^  =  "  ^^'-  ^^^^^' 
"  VVell,"  sais  I,  "  Miss,  it's  not  very  easy  to  explain  it  so  as  to 

make.tmtelligible;  but  I  will  try.    %iiJvodd  ll  all  that  is  in 

,  IS  the  work  of  God.     When  he  made  it,  he  gave  it  laws  or 

2^.1  ties  thit  govern  it,  and  so  to    every  living  or  inanimate 

^mg,    and  tjiese   properties   or    laws    are    called    their  nature. 

im !«"?'  ^*;f  ^^^"^^^f  ««»^etimes  used  for  God  himself,  and  some- 

nes  for  the  world  and  its  contents,  and  the  secret  laws  of  action 

..posed  upon  them  when  created.     There  is  one  nature  to  men  : 

01  though  they  don't  all  look  alike,  the  laws  of  their  being  are 
the  same,)  and  another  to  horses,  dogs,  fi«h,  and  so  on.  Each 
c  ass  has  its  own  nature.  For  instance,  it  is  natural  for  fish  to 
inhabit  watw,  birds  the  air,  and  so  on.     in  genoraL  it  therefore 


94 


THE  WOUNDS  OF  THE  HEART. 


ii'H' 


means  the  universal  law  that  governs  everything.     Do  you  under, 
stand  it  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Not  just  now,"  she  said,  "  but  I  will  when  I  have  time  to 
think  of  it.     Do  you  say  there  is  one  nature  to  all  men." 

*'  Yes,  the  same  nature  to  Indian  as  to  white  men— all  the  same." 

"  Which  is  the  best  nature?" 

"  It  is  the  same." 

*'  Indian  and  white  are  they  both  equal  1" 

"  Quite—" 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?" 

"  Every  mite  and  morsel,  every  bit  and  grain.  Everybody 
don't  think  so  1  That's  natural ;  every  race  thinks  it  is  better  than 
another,  and  every  man  thinks  he  is  superior  to  others ;  and  so 
docs  every  woman.  Thoy  think  their  children  the  best  and  hand- 
somest. A  bear  thinks  her  nasty,  dirty,  shapeless,  tailless  cubs  the 
most  beautiful  things  in  all  creation." 

She  laughed  at  that,  but  as  suddenly  relapsed  into  a  fixed  gloom. 
*'  If  red  and  M'hite  men  are  both  equal,  and  have  the  same  nature," 
she  said,  "  what  becomes  of  thtfse  who  are  neither  red  nor  white; 
who  have  no  country,  no  nation,  no  tribe,  scorned  by  each,  and  the 
tents  and  the  houses  of  both  closed  against  them.  Are  they  equal  ? 
what  docs  nature  say  ?" 

"  There  is  no  diflerencc,"  I  said  ;  "  in  the  eye  of  God  they  are  all 
alike." 

"  God  may  think  and  treot  them  so,"  she  replied,  rising  with 
much  emotion,  "  but  man  doe    not." 

I  thought  it  was  as  well  to  (ihange  the  conversation,  and  leave 
her  to  ponder  over  the  idea  of  the  races,  which  seemed  so  new  to 
her.  "  So,"  sais  1,  "  I  wonder  the  Doctor  hasn't  arrived  ;  it's  past 
four.  There  he  is,  J  essie  ;  see,  he  is  on  the  beach ;  he  has  returned 
by  water.  Come,  put  on  your  bonnet  and  let  you  and  I  go  and 
meet  him." 

"  Who,  me !"  she  said,  her  face  expressing  both  surprise  and 
pleasure. 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  I.  "  You  are  not  afraid  of  me.  Miss,  I 
hope." 

"  I  warn't  sure  I  heard  you  right,"  she  said,  and  away  she  went 
for  her  bonnet. 

Poor  thing  !  it  was  evident  her  position  was  a  very  painful  one 
to  her,  and  that  her  natural  pride  was  deeply  injured.  Poor  dear 
old  Minister  !  if  you  was  now  alive,  and  could  read  this  Journal,  I 
know  what  you  would  say  as  well  as  possible.  "  Sam,"  you  would 
say,  "  this  is  a  fulfilment  of  Scripture.  The  sins  of  the  fathers  are 
visited  on  the  children,  the  ejects  of  which  are  visible  in  the  second 
and  third  generation.'''^ 


aW 


FIDDLING    AND    DANCING. 


96 


ive  time  to 


ers :  and  so 


tne  nature," 

nor  white ; 

ich,  and  the 


CHAPTER  VIJ. 
FIDDLING  AND  DANCING,  AND  SERVING  THE  DEVIL. 

dinged  off  ofTho'^^^^  "''t'^  the  house,  Cutler  joined  us,  and  we 
d  ned  oil  of  the  Doctor'  sahnon,  which  was  prepared  in  a  way  that 

smacked  of  the  wigwam,  I  must  get  the  receipt.  The  only  wav 
for  a  man  who  travels  and  wants  to  get  something  bet  er  7ll 
amusement  out  of  it,  is  to  notch  down  anything  n?w  for  every 

ZtfJ7  h^V^  ''"J""^^  '"  r>'-  '^''^^^  ^"^  hastens  its  death  by 
g  o  vu  g  too  fat  Now  the  talking  traveller  feeds  his  mind  as  wefl 
as  Ins  body,  and  soon  finds  the  less  he  pampers  his  aoDetito  fhn 
olearer  his  head  is,  and  the  better  his  spirfts.  ^tL  g  ea7tC  is  Jo 
hve  and  learn,  and  learn  to  live.  ""  ° 

Now  I  hate  an  epicure  above  all  created  things— worse  than 
lawyers,  doctors,  politicians  and  selfish  fellows  of  all  kinds  In  a 
g.niral  way  he  is  a  miserable  critter,  for  nothin'  is  good  enoucrh  for 
h.m  or  done  r.ght,  and  his  appetite  gives  itself  as  many  2s,  and 

lXTftl-'""'Nr''"  '"  '^  "  crotchetty,  fanciful,  peevish  old 
tLuJh  i  '■  "r  '  «^"«'biJity  is  all  in  his  palate,  he  can't 

Zlol  r  T  y.  "'  ^-^  ^''"?-     ^'^'^"^'  °"^«^'^  miserable,  fastin' 

in  sac^kcloth  and  ashes,  a.nt  a  bit  more  foolish  than  makin'  oneself 

vretched  m  the  midst  of  plenty,  because  the  sea,  the  air,  and  The 

earth  won  t  give  him  the  danties  he  wants,  and  Providence  won'? 

send  the  cook  to  dress  them.     To  spend  one's  life  in  eatin-,  drink- 

Tman  fo  t^r'  ^"  '^'  "  ^"""''^'  "^  ^""^i^'-^^ing  on  food,^'educes 
a  man  to  the  level  of  an  ox  or  an  ass.  The  stomach  is  the  kitchen 
and  a  very  small  one  too,  in  a  general  way,  and  broiling,  simmer' 
ng,  stevving  baking,  and  steaming,  is  a  goin'  on  there  night  and 
clay.  Ihe  atmosphere  is  none  of  the  pleasantest  neither,  and  if  a 
man  chooses  to  withdraw  into  himself  and  live  there  why  I  don't 
see  what  earthly  good  he  is  to  society,  unless  he  wants  to  wind  up 
life  by  wntin'  a  cookery-book.  I  hate  them-that's  just  the  tarm, 
and  1  like  tarms  that  express  what  1  mean. 

I  shall  never  forget  when  I  was  up  to  Michelimackinic.  A  thun 
derin  long  word,  aint  it  ?  We  call  it  Mackinic  now  for  shortness. 
13u  porhaps  you  wouldn't  understand  it,  spelt  that  way,  no  more 
than  I  did  w^hen  I  was  to  England,  that  Brighton  means  Bri-hthel 
meston,  or  Sissiter  Cirencester,  for  the  English  take  such  liberties 
^  ith  words,  hey  can't  afford  to  let  others  do  the  same;  so  I  give 
It  to  you  both  ways.     Well,  when  I  was  there  last.  I  dinpd  ^x^^n  « 


96 


VI 


FlOnr.  ^N(i     AND     DANOINO 


lli»j?o  (Icu'lor,  llir^n-iilt'sl,  opicuiv  I  lli'mk  I  cvnr  n(m>  in  all  tny  Wn 
(livvM.  Ho  tlutiiglit  uiiil  tiillu'il  ..r  iioiliiiij;  (-Iso  iVoiii  mtd-iiiiiu  till 
night  bill  (>iuin\ 

"Oil,  Mr.  .Sjit'k,"  m'id  \u\  nihltin  his  hinids,  '•  (his  is  tho  |,ji||o^t 
ouinifr^V  ii.  [\n\  woi-j.l  (,.  livo  in.  Whiil,  a  varifiy  of  Cod  thn-o  ii 
lu«ro,  liNJi,  ll.'sh  tnid  ft.wl,  wild,  (aino  and  niun,y;('ial,  fniils,  vcgouv. 
Iilos.  and  N|>onj,'y  plants!" 

•' What's  that?  "  sais  I.  I  always  do  that  when  a  (Mlow  uso^i 
Hi rango  words.  "  Wo  call  a  man  who  drops  in  acci.lcntally  on 
pnrposo  to  iliiuior  a  sponging  iMIow,  which  nu>;ms,  if  yon  givi^'hini 
tho  rhpiiil  ho  will  soak  it  n[)  dry. 

"Spongy  plants,"  N.iis  ho,  "  moans  mnshrooms  and  lh(»  like." 
"  Ah!''  said  I,  "  mnshroon\s  nro  natoral  to  a  lu'w  soil    liko   this. 
llpsta;-ts  wo  call  thon>;  thoy  ariso  at  night,  and   hy  next  morniu" 
their  noiiso  is  ni>  and  its  whilo  roof  on." 

"  Very  go(»d, '  said  ho,  Imt  not  loukin'  pleased  at  huvin'  his  oru- 
tory  cnt  short  that  way.  "Oh,  Mr.  Slick  !"  said  he,  "  there  is  iv 
poor  nnm  hero  who  richly  dosorvi«s  a  pension,  hoth  (Vom  your  gov- 
crnnient  and  mine.  He  has  dont>.  ujoro  to  advanco  tho"  cnlinary 
art  than  cither  I  Mo  or  Soy  or." 

"  Who  on  'oarlh  nt)w  wero  they  ?"  said  1.  I  know  w«'II  cnon-jh 
who  thoy  woro,  lor  wIumi  I  was  to  Mngiand  thov  nsed  to  \m\" 
greatly  ot"  Soy  or  at  the  lictorm  (^luh.  For  fear  iolks  would  call 
then- association  honso  aOer  their  polities,  »'///,■  r//c.f/)  a/n/ c//>/y," 
they  hnilt  a  very  splash  all'air,  and  to  set  an  c\ani|.le  to  the  sf'ato 
mlhoirown  cstal)lishmcnt,  ()f  oeonomy  and  ri'lorm  in  tho  pnhlio 
departments,  hired  Soy(<r,  tho  host  cook  ol*  (ho  age,  at  a  salary  that 
wonlil  have  ponsiiuied  liall'a-do/en  of  the  poor  worn-ont  clerks  in 
l^owning  Street.  ^  Viih^arittf  is  alirai/s  s/iowi/.  It  is  a  pretty  word 
"  Ivolormors."  Tho  oonun.on  herd  "of  thoni  I  don't  mind  mnch, 
lor  rognes  and  tools  always  find  employment  for  each  other,  lint 
when  I  hoar  of  a  great  rolormor  liko  some  oi'  tho  Itig  bngs  to  lOng- 
land,  that  have  hoon  grinning  throngh  horse-collars  of  Tato  years, 
liko  harloqnins  at  fairs,  fov  tho  amnsemont  and  inst motion  of  the 
{nihlic,  I  mnst  say  I  do  oxpoct  to  soo  a  snpor.sn|iorior  hypocrite. 

Vcs,  I  know  who  those  great  artists  Soyor  and  Vdc  wore,  bnt  I 
thought  I'd  draw  him  ont.  So  1  just  asked  who  on  oarlh  they  wero, 
and  ho  explained  at  groat  length,  and  mentioned  the  wonderfid  di* 
ooverios  they  hail  made  in  their  divine  art. 

"  Well,"  sais  1,  "  why  on  earth  don't  your  friend  the  IMaekinic 
cook  go  to  London  or  Paris  where  ho  won'"t  want  a  pension,  or  any 
thing  else  if  he  excels  them  great  men?" 

"Bless  yon,  Sir."  he  replied,  "  he  is  merely  li  voyageur." 
"Oh  do^uy'  sais  I,  "I  daresay  then  he  oan'frv  liauMuid  eggs  and 
serve  'em  up  in  lie,  boil  salt  beef  and  pork  and  twice  lay  STd-lish, 
and   perhaps  boil  potatoes  uioo  and  watery  like  cattle   turnips. 


'f%" 


AND    BKR7IN0     T II  K     DBVIL. 


07 


Whnf,  (lifloovoricH  could  uiwii  «   ..       i       % 


-"li-  will  ,1,1,,,, ,:  ';„'^:  ■  • ,: ,,',"::  ;■';;;■  ^^.^^ im...  ,u>d 

mm  ml„n-li,:,i.     I  nlw,  vs,l„  il  .    •  ,         i  \   "     '*'"'■     "'"//.'/'» 

;.::u^r'ii::^,l;:;):!;r'rt;!r::;n:i!;';r-'''''^''^ 
:^:::n;;;;;;:r,t;ij,:;:;:;;r/^^'^'"p^'r^^ 

-l"..s(.  a,.,!  |„.u|,|,..       ,f,',,  '    >"'  "'  "«";  "'  K".4co.,Hllf,„ti.,n, 

AHHTi,.,.,,      l^-.u-     (     MM,     ,v  .'    ""''"-'"'    '"/'--    «'='-vi<-.    onj.O 

''•'-  H.:n-,..f.....i:^','F  ;,,:;;--  ;  -'  /•»'"  J>'I.  of  .iuno,  1822. 
'*•'■'  ^i'l<' ;   I .'  l.-iMir  ur,    ,  <l"<'k-sh,.(,  w;iH  received  in  his 

<'--....  I.  ,„•      ^    ,"   T        •'.:     r'' """•"  "'''^•«  ""o  ^ard  from 

'■"■•''•■" "'L'  lh(^  lower  noriin.,     r  .»        /^  V         '  '''i'''"'"'"^'  Mu;  fi  ih 

I'N;;..-,';,,,.,  ,,n";;;,!;;;;r\;'.,;,'::il'"'  •"''"-'■  ^'- 1-«^  ^-.^  ^i- 

llo  I,  ,.,k,,l  ,, I,,,,, I     ,,,,,,,,,, J  ,,,,,. - 
til"  w..,„„l,  wi,l,„u;   I,,,  u  ,!,'■■"'""  '"''^'"""^tioi.  in  iho  lips  of 

:'i"'<i.-ai.i-,  i..  -y  o :;  V  r;i:;rH;u,ri:r-' ' «"?j'  "p - 

<l"'in  to<T,.tlicr  l)v  sn  .......  .        ^  ^  incismg  and  brnginff 

not  .snlnni  I  ■■  u  r  i  ZT'^^'Vu  ^^''^''  ^'^«  P'^tient  woul? 
"«  Willi  .o  con  -L"?'!  vi  f  f  ""'"t  I?''^^''J^'"««  had  supplied 
i"?.'  -  snudl  P<..Mi  r L  '  of  iV?";'^^^^^  ascertained,  by  ittach- 
i"^  if'  throuib  his  si  K    the  cJ^7  ''u'  ^"  ^  ''''''^^  ^"^  i"^^«^t- 

'^«  l>.>ef  or  pork   or       mn  0^/-       '"'?'?  ^'"^'^  ^"^  ^'j?^^^'^"'  «"ch 
dillcrcnt  wivH  *     We  ■      1  no w^h'  "'1        '"^  vegetables,  cooked  in 
y  .        VYc  all  know  how  long  it  takes  to  dre.s3  them, 

Pul.l.Hlu..!  in  New  York  i„  mmlM^V.  "'•"  ^?  '°  .^'^  '""""'^  '"  ^  ^ork 
Ra«tnc  juices,  and  the  phy^ioloiv^^f' dh.n.!:;?.^"?'^^.^^'.^  observations  on  Ih. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


'i 


1 


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98 


PIDDLING    AND     DANCING 


lU 


ill 


but  we  did  not  know  how  long  a  time  they  requ'red  for  digestion. 
I  will  show  you  a  comparative  table." 

"Thank  you,"  sais  1,  "but  !  am  afraid  I  must  be  a  moving." 
Fact  is,  my  stomach  was  movin'  then,  for  it  fairly  made  me  sick. 
Yes,  I'd  a  plaguy  sight  sooner  see  a  man  embroidering,  which  ia 
about  as  contemptible  an  accomplishment  as  an  idler  can  have,  than 
to  hear  him  everlastingly  smack  his  lips,  and  see  him  open  his  eyes 
and  gloat  like  an  anaconda  before  ho  takes  down  a  bullock,  horns 
hair,  and  hoof,  tank,  shank,  and  flank,  at  one  bolt,  as  if  it  was  an 
opium  pill  to  make  him  sleep. 

Well,  all  this  long  lockrum  arose  out  of  my  saying  I  should  like 
to  have  the  receipt  by  which  Jessie's  sister  had  cooked  the  salmon 
for  dinner ;  and  1  intend  to  get  it  too,  that's  a  fact.  As  we  con- 
eluded  our  meal,  "  Doctor,"  sais  I,  "  we  have  been  meditating  mis. 
chief  in  your  absence.  What  do  yon  say  lu  our  makin'  a  party  to 
visic  the  '  Bachelor  beaver's  dam^  and  sec  your  museums,  fixins 
betterments,  and  what  not?"  ' 

"  Why,"  said  he,  "I  should  like  it  above  all  things  :  but—" 

"  But  what,"  said  I. 

"  But  I  am  afraid,  as  you  must  stay  all  night,  if  you  go,  my  poor 
wigwam  wont  accommodate  so  many  with  bods." 

"  Oh !  some  of  us  will  camp  out,"  sais  1,  "  I  am  used  to  it,  and 
like  it  a  plaguy  sight  better  than  hot  rooms." 

'^  Just  the  thing,"  said  he.  "  Oh !  Mr.  Slick,  you  are  a  man  after 
my  own  heart.  The  nature  of  all  foresters  is  alike,  red  or  white, 
English  or  I'rench,  Yankee  or  Blue-nose." 

Jessie  looked  up  at  the  coincidence  oi  that  expression  with  what 
I  had  said  yesterday. 

"Blue-nose,"  said  I,  "Doctor,"  to  fimiliarize  the  girl's  mind  to 
the  idea  I  had  started  of  the  mixed  race  being  on^a  footing  of 
equality  with  the  other  two,  "Blue-nose  ought  to  be  the  best°  for 
he  is  half  Yankee,  and  half  English;  two  of  the  greatest  people  on 
the  face  of  the  airth  !" 

"  True,"  said  he,  "  by  right  he  ought  to  be,  and  it's  his  own  fault 
if  he  aint." 

\  thought  it  would  be  as  well  to  drop  the  allusion  there,  so  I 
said,  "That's  exactly  what  mother  used  to  say  when  1  did  anything 
wrong :  '  Sam,  aint  you  ashamed.'  '  No,  I  aint,'  said  I.  "'  Then 
you  ought  to  be,'  she'd  reply, 

"  It's  a  fixed  fact,  then,'"  said  T,  "  that  we  go  to-morrow  to  th« 
Beaver  dam  T' 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  I  shall  be  delighted.  Jessie,  you  and  your 
sister  will  accompany  us,  won't  you  V 


Surgeon  in  the  United  States  Army,  and  also  ui  the  "  Albion"  newapapcr  <rf 
the  snrae  place  for  January  4,  183'1. 


AND     SERVING     THE    DEVIL. 


99 


m  with  what 
irl's  mind  to 


"I  should  be  charmed,"  she  replied. 

"  I  think  you  will  be  pleased  with  it,"  he  continued,  "  it  will  just 
suit  you  ;  it's  so  quiet  and  retired.  But  you  must  let  Etienne  take 
the  horse,  and  carry  a  letter  to  my  sergeant  and  his  commanding 
officer,  Betty,  to  give  them  notice  of  our  visit,  or  he  will  go  throuf^h 
the  whole  campaign  in  Spaiu  before  he  is  done,  and  tell  you  how- 
ill  the  commissariat-people  were  us,ed,  iu  not  having  notice  given 
to  them  to  lay  in  stores.  I  never  was  honored  with  the  presence 
of  ladies  there  before,  and  he  will  tell  you  he  is  broken-hearted  at 
the  accommodation.  I  don't  know  what  there  is  in  the  house  ;  but 
the  rod  and  the  gun  will  supply  us,  I  think,  and  the  French  boy 
when  he  returns,  will  bring  me  word  if  anything  is  wanted  from 
the  shore." 

"  Jessie,"  said  I,  "  can't  you  invite  the  two  Highland  lassies  and 
their  brother,  that  were  here  last  night,  and  let  us  have  a  reel  this 
evening  ?" 

"  Oh !  yes,"  she  said,  and  going  into  the  kitchen,  the  message 
was  dispatched  immediately.  As  soon  as  the  guests  arrived,  Peter 
produced  his  violin,  and  the  Doctor  waking  out  of  one  of  his 
brown  studies,  jumped  up  like  a  boy,  and  taking  one  of  the  new 
comers  by  the  hand,  commenced  a  most  joyous  and  rapid  jig,  the 
triumph  of  which  seemed  to  consist  in  who  should  tire  the  other  out. 
The  girl  had  youth  and  agility  on  her  side ;  but  the  Doctor  was 
not  devoid  of  activity,  and  the  great  training  which  his  constant 
exercise  kept  him  in,  threw  the  balance  in  his  flivor ;  so,  when  he 
ceased,  and  declared  the  other  victorious,  it  was  evident  that  it  was 
an  act  of  grace,  and  not  of  necessity.  After  that  we  all  joined  in 
an  eight-handed  reel,  and  eight  merrier  and  happier  people,  I  don't 
think,  were  ever  before  assembled  at  Ship  Harbor. 

In  the  midst  of  it  the  door  opened,  and  a  tall,  thin,  cadaverous- 
looking  man  ent-red,  and  stood  contemplating  U3  in  silence.  He 
had  a  bilious-looking  countenance,  which  the  strong  light  of  the  fire 
and  candles,  when  thrown  upon  it,  rendered  still  more  repulsive. 
He  had  a  broad-brimmed  hat  on  his  head,  which  he  did  not  conde^' 
scend  to  remove,  and  carried  in  one  hand  a  leather  travelling-bag, 
as  lean  and  as  dark-complexioned  as  himself,  and  in  the  oSier  a 
bundle  of  temperance  newspapers.  Peter,  seeing  that  he  did  not 
speak  or  advance,  called  out  to  him,  with  a  face  beaming  with  good 
humor,  as  he  kept  bobbing  his  head,  and  keeping  time  with  his  foot, 
(for  his  whole  hcfdy  was  affected  by  his  own  music,) 

"  Come  in,  friend,  come  in,  she  is  welcome.  Come  in,  she  is 
play  in'  herself  just  now,  but  she  will  talk  to  you  presently."  And 
then  he  stamped  his  foot  to  give  emphasis  to  the  turn  of  the  tune, 
as  if  he  wanted  to  astonish  the  stranger  with  his  performance. 

The  latter,  however,  not  only  seemed  perfectly  insensible  to  its 
charms,  but  immovable.     Peter  at  last  got  up  from  his  chair,  and 


■if'-  ■  <■ 
i 


100 


FIDDLING     AND    DANCINO 


If 


continued  playing  as  he  advanced  towards  him  ;  but  he  naa  so  ex. 
cited  by  what  was  going  on  among  the  young  people,  that  he 
couldn't  resist  dancing  himself,  as  he  proceeded  down  the  room 
and  when  he  got  to  him,  capered  and  fiddled  at  the  same  time. 

"  Come,"  said  he,  as  he  jumped  about  in  front  of  him,  "  come  and 
join  in,"  and  liflin'  the  end  of  his  bow  suddenly,  tipt  off  his  hat  for 
him,  and  said,  "  come,  she  will  dance  with  you  herself." 

The  stranger  deliberately  laid  down  his  travelling- bag  at  '  paper 
parcel,  and  lifting  up  both  hands,  said,  ♦'  Satan,  avaunt."  But  Pe- 
ter misunderstood  him,  and  thought  he  said,  "Sartain,  I  can't." 

"  She  canna  do  tat,"  he  replied,  "  can't  she  then,  she'll  teach  you 
the  step,  herself.  This  is  the  v/ay,"  and  his  feet  approached  so  near 
the  solemncoUy  man  that  he  retreated  a  step  or  two  as  'f  to  pro- 
tect  his  shins.  Everybody  in  the  room  was  convulsed  with  laugh- 
ter, for  all  saw  what  the  intruder  was,  and  the  singular  mistake 
Peter  was  maldng.  It  broke  up  the  reel.  The  Doctor  put  his 
hancls  to  his^  sides,  bent  forward,  and  made  the  most  comical  con- 
tortious  of  face.  In  this  position  he  shuffled  across  the  room,  and 
actually  roared  out  with  laughter. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  scene ;  I  have  made  a  sketch  of  it,  to 
illustrate  this  for  you.  There  was  this  demure  sinner,  standing 
bolt  upright  in  front  of  the  door,  his  hat  hanging  on  the  handle, 
which  had  arrested  it  in  its  fall,  and  his  long  black  hair,  as  if  par- 
taking of  his  consternation,  flowing  wildly  over  his  cheeks  ;  while 
Peter,  utterly  unconscious  that  no  one  was  dancing,  continued  play- 
ing and  capering  in  front  of  him,  as  if  he  was  ravin'  distracted,  and 
the  Doctor  bent  forward,  pressing  his  sides  with  his  hands,  as  if  to 
prevent  their  bursting,  laughed  as  if  he  was  in  hysterics.  It  was 
the  raost  comical  thing  I  ever  saw.  I  couldn't  resist  it  no  longer, 
so  I  joined  the  trio. 

"Come,  Doctor,"  sais  I,  "a  three-handed  reel,"  and  entering  into 
the  joke,  he  seized  the  stranger  by  one  hand,  and  I  by  the  other, 
and  before  our  silent  friend  knew  where  he  was,  he  was  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor,  and  though  he  was  not  made  to  dance,  he  was 
pushed  or  flung  into  his  place,  and  turned  and  fliced  about  as  if  he 
was  taking  his  first  lesson.  At  last,  as  if  by  common  consent,  we 
all  ceased  laughing,  from  sheer  exhaustion.  The  stranger  still 
kept  his  position  in  the  centre  of  the  floor,  and  when  silence  was 
restored,  raised  his  hands  again  in  pious  horror,  and  said,  in  a 
dr,ep,  sepulchral  voice  : 

"  Fiddlinff,  and  dancing,  and  serving  the  devil !  Do  you  ever 
think  of  your  latter  end  ?" 

"  Thee  had  better  think  of  thine,  friend,"  I  whispered,  assuming 
the  manner  of  a  quaker  for  fun,  "  for  Peter  is  a  rough  customer, 
and  won't  stand  upon  ceremony." 

'^Amhic  an  aibhisfeir,  (sou  of  the  devil,)"  said  Peter,  shaking 


AND     SERVING    THE     DEVIL. 


101 


onsent,  we 


his  fist  at  him,  "if  she  don't  like  it,  she  had  better  go.  It's  her 
own  house,  and  she  will  do  what  she  likes  in  it.  Paat  does  she 
want  ? 

"  I  want  the  man  called  Samuel  Slick,"  said  he 

"Verily,"  sais  I,  "friend,  I  am  that  man,  and  wilt  thee  tell  mo 
wJio  thee  is  that  wantest  me,  and  whore  thee  livest '?" 

"Men  call  me,'' he  said,  "  Jehu  Judd,  and  when  to  home,  I  live 
m  Quaco  in  New  Brunswick." 

I  was  glad  of  that,  because  it  warn't  possible  the  critter  could 
know  anything  of  rne,  and  I  wanted  to  draw  him  out. 

"  And  what  does  thee  want,  friend  ?"  1  said. 

"  I  come  to  trade  with  you,  to  sell  you  fifty  barrels  of  mackerel 
aid  to  procure  some  nets  for  the  fishery,  and  some  manufactures' 
commonly  called  (/omw^iw."  ' 

„  ."Verily,"  sais  I  "  thee  haso  an  odd  way  of  opening  a  trade,  me- 
thinks,  friend  Judd.  Shaking  quakers  dance  piously,  as  th^e 
mayest  have  heard  and  dost  chee  think  thy  conduct  seemly^? 
What  mayest  thee  be,  friend  1"  ^  ' 

"  A  trader,"  he  replied. 

fish  ?"  ""^  ^^^^  """^  *  '^^^  ^^  "^®°'  ^"^'^^'  ^^  ^^^^  ^^  ^  ^'^^^  o^ 
"lam  a  Christian  man,"  he  said,  «  of  the  sect  called  'Come- 
outers,*  and  have  had  experience,  and  when  I  meet  the  brethren 
sometimes  J  speak  a  word  in  season."  ' 

"Well,  friend,  thee  has  spoken  thy  words  out  of  season  to. 
ignt,    1  said. 

^  "  Peradventure  I  was  wrong,"  he  replied,  "  and  if  so,  I  repent 

"Of  a  certainty  thee  was,  friend.  Thee  sayest  thy  name  is 
Jeliu  ;  now  he  was  a  hard  rider,  and  it  may  be  thee  drivest  a  hard 
bargain— if  so,  go  thy  ways,  for  thee  cannot  'make  seed-corn  off  of 
me ;  It  not,  tarry  here  till  this  company  goeth,  and  then  I  will 
talk  to  thee  touching  the  thing  called  mackarel.  Wilt  thee  sit  by 
lie  tire  till  tbe  Quaker  ceaseth  his  dancing,  and  perhaps  thee  may 
learn  what  those  words  mean  :  'and  the  heart  danceth  for  joy  '  or 

[f  jy  t*?  thee  will  return  to  thy  vessel,  and  trade  in  the  mornine  " 

-No  man  knoweth,"  he  said,  "what  an  hour  may  bring  forth  • 

I  will  bide  my  time."  ' 


ni 


*  Come-outers.  This  name  has  been  applied  to  a  considerable  number  of 
persons  in  various  parts  of  the  Northern  States,  principally  in  New  England 
who  have  recently  come  out^  the  various  religious  denominations  with  S 
a  Lp?"  V  ;""r^^^^;  hence  the  name.  They  have  not  themselves 
assumed  any  dis  inctive  organization.  They  have  no  creed,  believing  that 
e very  one  should  be  left  free  to  hold  such  opinions  on  religious  subjects  us  he 
pleayswijout  being  held  accounlfible  for  the  same  to  anv  human  authority.^ 


■II 


i  « 


«ji< 


102 


FIDDLING     AND     DANCING 


"  The  night  is  cold  at  this  season,"  said  Peter,  who  considered 
that  the  lAws  of  hospitality  required  him  to  offer  the  best  he  had 
in  his  house  to  a  stranger,  so  ho  produced  some  spirits,  as  the  most 
acceptable  thing  he  possessed,  and  requested  him  to  help  himself. 

"  1  care  not  if  I  do,"  he  said,  "for  my  pledge  extendeth  not  so 
far  as  this,"  and  he  poured  himself  out  a  tumbler  of  brandy  and 
water,  that  warn't  half-and-half,  ht  almost  the  whole  hog.  Ob, 
gummy,  what  a  horn!  it  was  strong  enough  airaost  to  throw  an 
ox  over  a  five  bar  gate.  It  made  his  eyes  twinkle,  I  tell  you,  ard 
he  sat  down  and  began  to  look  as  if  he  thoi  ght  the  galls  pretty. 

"  Come,  Peter,"  said  I,  "  strike  up,  the  stranger  will  wait  awhile." 

"V/ill  the  dance,"  said  he,  "tarn  her." 

"  No,"  said  I,  but  I  whispered  to  the  Doctor,  "he  will  reel  soon," 
at  which  he  folded  his  arms  across  his  breast  and  performed  his 
gyrations  as  before.  Meanwhile  Cutler  and  Fraser,  and  two  ot 
the  girls,  commenced  dancing  jigs,  and  harmony  was  once  more 
restored.  While  they  w^ere  thus  occupied,  I  talked  over  the 
arrangements  for  our  excursion  on  the  morrow  with  Jessie,  and 
the  Doctor  entered  into  a  close  examination  of  Jehu  Judd,  as  to 
the  new  asphalt  mines  in  his  province.  He  informed  him  of  the 
enormous  petrified  trunks  of  palm-trees  that  have  been  found  while 
exploring  the  coal-fields,  and  warmed  into  eloquence  as  he  enu- 
merated the  mineral  wealth  and  great  resources  of  that  most 
beautiful  colony.  The  Doctor  expressed  himself  delighted  with 
the  information  he  had  received,  whereupon  Jehu  rose  and  asked 
him  in  token  of  amity  to  pledge  him  ;n  a  glass  of  Peter's  excellent 
cognac,  and,  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  filled  a  tumbler  and 
swallowed  it  at  one  gulp. 

My,  what  a  pull  that  was !  Thinks  I  to  myself,  "  Friend,  if 
that  don't  take  the  wrinkles  out  of  the  parchment-case  of  your 
conscience,  then  I  don't  know  thin',  that's  all."  Oh,  dear,  how 
all  America  is  overrun  with  such  cattle  as  this ;  how  few  teach 
religion,  or  practice  it  right.  How  hard  it  is  to  find  the  genuine 
article.  Some  folks  keep  the  people  in  ignorance,  and  make  them 
believe  the  moon  is  made  of  green  cheese,  others  with  as  much 
sense,  fancy  the  world  is.  One  has  old  saints,  the  other  invents 
new  ones.  One  places  miracles  at  a  distance,  'tother  makes  them 
before  their  eyes,  while  both  are  up  to  inesmerism.  One  says 
there  is  no  marry  in'  in  Paradise;  the  other  says,  if  that's  true,  it's 
hard,  and  it  is  best  to  be  a  mormon  and  to  have  polygamy  here. 
Then  there  's  a  third  party  who  says,  neither  of  you  speak  sense, 
it  is  better  to  believe  nothin'  than  to  give  yourself  up  to  be 
crammed.  Religion,  Squire,  ain't  natur,  because  it  is  intended  to 
improve  corrupt  natur  ;  it's  no  use  talkin,  therefore,  it  can't  be  left 
to  itself,  otherwise  it  degenerates  into  something  little  better  than 
animal   instinct.     It  must  be  taught,  and  teaching   must  have 


AND     ftEnVING     TUB     DEVIL 


103 


)  considered 
best  he  had 
as  the  most 
Ip  himself. 
3eth  not  so 
brandy  and 
:  hog.  Ob, 
to  throw  an 
ill  you,  9rd 
Is  pretty, 
ait  awhile." 

I  reel  soon," 
'formed  his 
and  two  ot 

once  more 
i  over  the 

Jessie,  and 
Judd,  as  to 

him  of  the 
found  while 
as  he  enu- 

that  most 
ghted  with 

and  asked 
''s  excellent 
mbler  and 

"  Friend,  if 
se  of  your 
,  dear,  how 
T  few  teach 
:he  genuine 
make  them 
h  as  much 
ler  invents 
lakes  them 

One  says 
i's  true,  it's 
5amy  here. 
)eak  sense, 

up  to  be 
ntended  to 
an't  be  left 
better  than 
must  have 


authority  as  well  as  learning.  There  can  be  no  authority  where 
there  is  no  power  to  enforce,  and  there  can  be  no  learning  where 
there  is  no  training.  If  there  must  be  normal  schools  to  qualify 
schoolmasters,  there  jnust  be  Oxfords  and  Cambridges  to  qualify 
clergymen.  Ai;  least  that's  my  idea.  Well,  if  there  is  a  qualified 
man,  he  must  bo  supported  while  he  is  working.  But  if  he  has  to 
please  his  earthly  employer,  instead  of  obeying  his  heavenly  mas- 
ter, the  better  he  is  qualified  the  more  dangerous  he  is.  If  he 
relies  on  his  congregation,  the  order  of  t'.'-^gs  is  turned  upside 
down.  He  serves  mammon,  and  not  God.  If  he  does  his  duty 
he  must  tell  un;>leasant  truths,  and  then  he  gets  a  walkin'  ticket. 
Who  will  hire  a  servant,  pay  him  for  his  time,  find  a  house  for 
him  to  live  in,  and  provide  him  in  board,  if  he  has  a  will  of  his 
own,  and  won't  please  his  employer  by  doin'  what  he  is  ordered 
to  do  ?     I  don't  think  you  would,"^ Squire,  and  I  know  I  wouldn't. 

No,  a  fixed,  settled  church,  like  our'n,  or  yours.  Squire,  is  the 
best.  There  is  safe  anchorage-groimd  in  them,  and  you  don't  ao 
draggin'  your  flukes  with  every  spurt  of  wind,  or  get  wrecked^if 
there  is  a  gale  that  rages  round  you.  There  is  something  strong 
to  hold  on  to.  There  are  good  buoys,  known  landmarks,  and  fixed 
liglit-houses,  so  that  you  know  how  to  steer,  and  not  helter  skelter 
lights  movin'  on  the  shore  like  will-o'-the-whisps,  or  wreckers'  false 
fires,  that  just  lead  you  to  destruction.  The  medium  between  the 
two  churches,  for  the  clergy  would  be  the  right  thing.  In  yours 
they  are  too  independent  of  the  people,  with  us  a  little  too  depend- 
ent. But  we  are  coming  up  to  the  notch  by  making  moderate 
endowments,  which  will  enable  the  minister  to  do  what  is  right, 
and  not  too  large  to  make  him  lazy  or  careless.  Well  then°  in 
neither  of  them  is  a  minister  handed  over  to  a  faction  to  try. 
Them  that  make  the  charges  ain't  the  judges,  which  is  a  Mao-na 
Charta  for  him. 

Yes,  I  like  our  episcopal  churches — they  teach,  persude,  guide, 
and  paternally  govern,  but  they  have  no  dungeons,  no  tortures,  no 
fire  and  sword.  They  ain't  afraid  of  the  light,  for,  as  minister 
used  to  say,  "  their  light  shines  afore  men."  Just  see  what  sort 
of  a  system  it  must  be  that  produces  such  a  man  as  Jehu  Judd. 
And  yet  Jehu  finds  it  ansv/er  his  purpose  in  his  class  to  be  what  he 
is.  His  religion  is  a  cloak,  and  that  is  a  grand  thing  hr  a  pick- 
pocket. It  hides  his  hands,  while  they  are  fumblin'  about  your 
waistcoat  and  trowsers,  and  then  conceals  the  booty.  You  can't 
make  tricks  if  your  adversary  sees  your  hands;  you  may  as  well 
give  up  the  game. 

But  to  return  to  the  evangelical  trader.  Before  we  recommenced 
dancing  again,  J  begged  the  two  Gaelic  girls,  who  were  bouncing, 
buxom  lasses,  and  as  strong  as  Shetland  ponies,  to  coax  or  drag 
him  UD  for  a  reel.     Each  took  a  liand  of  his  .and  tried  to  r)ersuada 


104 


FIDDLING     AND     DANCINft 


If' 

m     > 


i'i 


'.* 


him.  Oh,  weren't  they  full  of  smiles,  and  didn't  they  look  rosy 
and  temptin' !  The>  were  sure,  they  said,  so  good-lookin'  a  man 
as  he  was,  must  have  learneJ  to  dance,  or  how  could  he  have  given 
it  up  ? 

"  For  a  single  man  like  you,"  said  Catherine. 

"  I  am  not  a  single  man,"  said  Old  Piety,  "  I  am  a  widower,  a 
lonely  man  in  the  house  of  Israel." 

•^  Oh,  Catherine,"  sais  f,  a  givin'  her  a  wink,  "  take  care  of  thee- 
self,  or  thy  Musquodobit  farm,  with  its  hundred  acres  of  intervale 
meadow,  and  seventy  head  of  horned  cattle  is  gone." 

He  took  a  very  amatory  look  at  her  after  that  hint. 

"  Verily  she  would  be  a  duck  in  ^moco,  friend  Jehu,"  said  I. 

"  Indeed  would  she,  anywhere,"  he  said,  looking  sanctified  Cupids 
at  her,  as  pious  galls  do  who  show  you  the  place  in  your  prayer- 
book  at  church.  -  ^    "^ 

'^' Ah,  there  is  another  way,  methinks  she  would  be  a  duck,"  said 
T,  "  the  maiden  would  soon  turn  up  the  whites  of  her  eyes  at 
dancin'  like  a  duck  in  thunder,  as  the  profane  men  say." 

♦'  Oh,  oh,"  said  the  Doctor,  who  stood  behind  me,  "  I  shall  die, 
he  11  kill  me.     I  can't  stand  this,  oh,  how  my  sides  ache." 

"  Indeed  I  am  afraid  I  shall  always  be  a  loild  duck;'  said  Cathe- 
rine- 

"  They  are  safer  from  the  fowler,"  said  Jehu,  "  for  they  are 
wary  and  watchful." 

"  If  you  are  a  widower,"  she  said,  "you  ought  to  dance." 
"Why  do  you  think  so  ?"  said  he ;  but  his  tongue  was  becoming 
thick,  though  his  eyes  were  getting  brighter. 

"Because,"  she  said,  "  a  widower  is  an  odd  critter." 
"  Odd  ?  "  he  replied,  "  in  what  way  odd,  dear?  " 
"  Why,"  said  the  girl,  "  an  ox  of  our'n  lately  lost  his  mate,  and 
my  brother  called  him  the  odd  ox,  and  not  the  single  ox,  and  he  is 
the  most  frolicksome  fellow  you  ever  sec.  Now,  as  you  have  lost 
your  mate,  you  are  an  odd  one,  and  if  you  are  look  in'  for  another 
to  put  its  head  into  the  yoke,  you  ought  to  go  frolickin'  everywhere 
too ! " 

"  Do  single  critters  ever  look  for  mates?  "  said  he  slily. 

"  Well  done,"  said  I,  "  friend  Jehu.  The  drake  had  the  best  of 
the  duck  that  time.  Thee  weren't  bred  at  Quaco  for  nothin. 
Come,  rouse  up,  wake  snakes,  and  walk  chalks,  as  the  thoughtless 
children  of  evil  say.     I  see  thee  is  warmin'  to  the  subject." 

"  Men  do  allow,"  said  he,  look  in'  at  me  with  great;  self  compla- 
cency, "  that  in  speech  I  am  peeowerM.'^  ^ 

"Come,  Mary,"  said  I,  addressin'  the  ofhef  sister,  "'do  thee  try 
thy  persuasive  powers,  but  take  care  of  thy  grandmother's  legacy, 
the  two  thousand  pounds  thee  hast  in  the  Pictou  Bank.  It  is  elisier 
for  that  to  go  to  Quaco  than  the  farm." 


AND    8ERVINO    THE    DEVIL. 


105 


"  Oh,  never  fer.r,"  said  she. 

"Providence;'  he  continued,  "has  been  kind  to  these  vimns 
They  are  surprismg  comely,  and  well  endowed  with  understanding 
Mid  money  and  he  smirked  first  at  one  and  then  at  the  other,  as 
if  h^.  thought  either  would  do— the  farm  or  the  legacy 

"  ^^S'-  ^^/^  both  said,  and  as  they  ga.e  a  flight  pull,  up  he 
sprung  to  his  feet.  The  temptation  was  too  great  for  him  "Co 
Inirni  ^^'^^'"'y^'l  two  pretty  faces,  and  two  hands  in  his,  filled 
V.  1  Highland  o  JO..  -  and  th^L  ain't  cold-and  two  glasses  of  grog 
withm,  p.nd  two  fortunes  without  were  ii.-esisfble 

So  said  he,  "If  I  have  offended,  verily  I  will  make  amends  • 
but  dancing  is  a  dangerous  thing,  and  a  snare  to  the  unwary.     The 

tho.fgh'ts.''  """"'^  ^  ""^'^"'^  '"  *^'  ^^^''  ^'""^  "^"^  to  serious 
"  It's  becaii^e  thee  so  seldom  feels  them,"  I  said.  «  Ed-ed  tools 
never  wound  th.o  when  thee  is  used  to  them,  and  the  rlzor  that 
cutte  h  ^he  child  passes  smoothly  over  the  chin  of  a  man.  He 
who  locke  h  up  h.s  daughters,  forgetteth  there  is  a  window  and  a 

r^tl?'i  ^^'1^  "  'Y'  °'^  ""^  ^'^"  ^"^"^^^  '^  i«  pitied  and  admit- 
ted when  he  master  is  absent  or  asleep.  When  it  is  harbored  by 
stealth  aHd  kept  concealed,  it  loses  its  beauty  and  innocence,  and 
waxeth  wicked.  Ihe  crowd  that  Jeaveth  a  night-meeting  is  less 
restrained  than  the  throng  that  goeth  to  a  lighted  ball-room.  Both 
are  to  be  avoided ;  one  weareth  a  cloak  that  conceafe  too  much,  the 
other  athm  vestment  that  reveals  more  than  is  seemly      Of  the 

S  t'o  dark'd^ed:.''"""  ''"^"''""  ^'"^  ^'""  '''     ^-'^"  ^^^g^^^ 
"  There  is  much  reason  in  what  you  say,"  he  said  •  « I  never 
had  It  put  to  me  in  that  hght  before.     I  have  heard  of  the  shakers 
but  never  saw  one  before  you,  nor  was  aware  that  they  danced  "  ' 
Did  thee  never  hear,"  said  J,  "  when  thee  was  a  boy, 

"  '  Merrily  dance  the  Quaker',,  wife, 
And  merrily  dance  the  Quaker  1 '' 
and  so  on  ?  " 
"  No,  never,"  said  he. 

"  Then  verily  friend,  I  will  show  thee  how  a  Quaker  can  dance 

They  call  us  shakers,  from  shaking  our  feet  so  spry.     Which  wUi 

thee  choose—the  farm  or  the  legacy  ?  "  f  j-      ''^  "lui  win 

Mary  took  his  hand,  and  led  "him  to  his  place,  the  music  struck 

^&  Z  ^T  ^r'/'  ""'  f  ^''  q-^k««t  measures.  Jehu  now 
felt  the  combined  influence  of  music,  women,  brandy  and  dancin^^^ 
nd  snapped  h.s  fingers  over  his  head,  and  stamped  his  feet  to  ik 
the  time,  and  hummed  the  tune  in  a  voice  that  from  its  powe/and 
clearness  astonished  us  all.  P-         ^"^ 

"Well  done,  old  boy,"  said  I,  for  I  thought  I  might  drop  the 


106 


FIDDLING     AND    DANCING. 


I*      f 


I'     if    ;i 


I.     > 


ihu, 


quaker  now,  "  well  done,  old  boy,"  and  I  slapped  him  on  the  back, 
"go  it  while  you  arc  young,  make  up  for  lost  time  :  now  for 
the  double  shuffle.  Dod  rot  it,  you  are  clear  grit  and  no  mistake 
You  are  like  a  critter  that  boggles  in  the  collar  at  the  first  go  off, 
end  don't  like  the  start,  but  when  you  do  lay  legs  to  it  you  cerl 
tainly  ain't  no  slouch,  I  know." 

The  way  he  cuts  carlicues,  ain't  no  matter.  From  hummtn<»  he 
soon  got  to  a  uill  cry,  and  from  that  to  shouting.  His  antics  over- 
came us  all.  The  Doctor  gave  the  first  key  note.  "  Oh,  oh,  that 
man  will  be  the  death  of  me,"  and  again  rubbed  himself  round  the 
wall,  in  convulsions  of  laughter.  Peter  saw  nothing  absurd  in  all 
this,  on  the  contrary,  he  was  delighted  with  the  stranger. 

"  Oigh,"  he  said,  "  ta  preacher  is  a  goot  feller  after  all,  she  will 
tance  with  her  hern  ainsel,"  and  fiddling  his  way  up  to  him  a^^ain 
he  danced  a  jig  with  Jehu,  to  the  infinite  amusement  of  us  all  \he 
familiarity  which  Mr.  Judd  exhibited  with  the  steps  and  the  dance 
convinced  me  that  he  must  have  often  indulged  in  it  before  he 
became  a  christian.  At  last  he  sat  down,  not  a  little  exhausted 
with  the  violent  exertion,  but  the  liquor  made  him  peeowerful 
thick-  egged,  and  his  track  warnt  a  bee  line,  I  tell  you.  After 
a  while  a  song  was  proposed,  and  Mary  entreated  him  to  favor  us 
with  one. 

"Dear  Miss,"  said  he,  "pretty  Miss,"  and  his  mouth  resembled 
that  ot  a  cat  contemplating  a  pan  of  milk  that  it  cannot  reach 
love  y  maiden,  willingly  would  I  comply,  if  Sail  Mody  (Psal- 
mody)  will  do,  but  I  have  forgotten  my  songs." 

"Try  this,"  said  I,  and  his  strong,  clear  voice 
as  he  joined  us  in 


rose  above  us  all, 


"  Yes,  Lucy  is  a  pretty  girl, 
Such  lubly  hands  and  feet, 
When  her  toe  is  in  the  Market-house, 
Her  heel  is  in  Main  Street. 

"  Oh,  take  your  time,  Miss  Lucy, 
Miss  Lucy,  Lucy  Long, 
Rock  de  cradle,  Lucy, 
And  listen  to  de  song." 

He  complained  of  thirst  and  fat\^e  after  this,  and  rising,  said, 
I  am  peeowerful  dry,  by  jinks,"  and  helped  himself  so  liberally 
that  he  had  scarcely  resumed  his  seat  before  he  was  fast  asleep,  and 
so  mcapable  of  sustaining  himself  in  a  sitting  posture,  that  we 
removed  hmi  to  the  sofa,  and  loosening  his  cravat,  placed  him  in  a 
situation  where  he  could  repose  comfortably.  We  then  all  stood 
round  the  evangelical  "  come  outer,'"  and  sang  in  chorus : 


STITCHING     A     BUTTON-HOLE.  107 

"  Mjr  old  matter,  Twiddlcdum  Don, 
"VV  ent  to  bed  with  his  trousers  on, 
One  shoe  off,  and  the  other  shoe  on— 
That's  a  description  of  Tvviddlt'dum  Don." 

f  J\?^'  "'•L^'l?  '  ^T'^"'*"'^''''  '^'^  ^'  '^^  ^  took  my  last  look  at  hini 
for  the  n.ght  «  you  have  '  come-out'  in  your  true  colors  at  last  bul 
th:s  comes  of  'Jiddlin^  and  dancing,  and  serving  TeZil' ''     ' 


'  »  5> 


)0ve  us  all. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

STITCHING  A  BUTTON-HOLE. 

After  the  family  had  retired  to  rest,  the  Doctor  and  I  lighted 
our  c.gars,  and  discoursed  of  the  events  of  the  evening  ^ 

n,i,nh"f  •""?;.'  ''''^'^"  ^"^^'"  ^"  ^^'^^  "^o  ^  monstrous  deal  of 
mischief  in  the  country.  By  making  the  profession  of  piety  a 
cloak  for  their  knavery,  they  injure  the  cause  of  morality,  and  pre- 
dispose men  to  ridicule  the  very  appearance  of  that  which  is^  so 
justly  entitled  to  their  respect,  a  sober,  righteous,  and  godly  life. 
Men  lose  their  abhorrence  of  fraud  in  their  distrust  of  the  efficacy 

sucSmvs.''  ''  ^  ^"'^  "^^  ^^'  *°  '°"^*^  ^^  ^^P°^^  ^^d  P""i«h 
"Well,  then,  I  will  do  my  duty,"  said  I,  laughing,  "he  has  fired 
into  the  wrong  flock  this  time,  I'll  teach  him  not  to  do  it  again  or 
my  name  IS  not  Sam  Slick.  I  will  make  that  goney  a  caution  to 
sinners  /know  He  has  often  deceived  others  so  that  they  didn't 
know  him  I  will  now  alter  him  so  he  shan't  know  himself  when  ha 
wakes  up. 

Proceeding  to  my  bed-room,  which,  as  I  said  before,  adjoined 
the  parlor  I  brought  out  the  box  containing  my  sketchiii'  fixins  and 
opening  of  a  secret  drawer,  shewed  him  a  small  paper  of  bronze 
colored  powder.  ,  ^  ^ 

_"  That,"  said  I,  "  is  what  the  Indians  at  the  Nor- west  use  to  dis- 
gu.se  a  white  man,  when  he  is  in  their  train,  not  to  deceive  their 
enemies,  for  you  couldn't  take  in  a  savage  for  any  length  of  time, 

TJT  n  '"'f  ^'"  }''  ^^'  '^^'  ^'^  P^^^  ^^^^  "^5ght  not  alarm  the 
scouts  of  their  foes  I  was  stained  that  way  for  a  month,  when  T 
was  among  them,  for  there  was  war  going  on  at  the  time  " 

T  iT^A  ^'"'?  ^/  '^  ^'^^  ^^'''"^^'  ^  ^"'"^  to  the  sofli  where  Mr. 
Jehu  Judd  was  laid  out,  and  with  a  camel's  hair  brush  ornamented 
his  upper  lip  with  two  enormous  and  ferocious  moustachios,  curling 
well  upwards,  across  his  cheeks,  to  his  ears,  and  laid  on  the  Daint 


I 


^i  I: 


108 


6T1T0IIINO     A     PUTTOM-HOLiS. 


In-a  manner  to  resist  the  utmost  efforts  of  soap  and  water.     Eaci 

b LrL".? ""'"t    TK^""  ?"^"''^^"'  ''''^'^  to  represent  the  effect  of 
Llmvs  and  on  h.s  fi>rchead  ^v.^8  written  in  this  indeahle  ink  in  lar^f 

^  JeJu  orQuac!;'''       '  '''  '"  '^tarn-board  of  a  vessel,  the  wordi, 

In  the  morning  wo  made  preparations  for  visiting  the  Batcheloi 
Beaver.     1  he  ev^,,elicnl  trader  awoke  .mid  the  g.Lral  bu  U3  o 

'  1^  s't'vt ''  "Ti  ?'  out  to  talk  over  tho  sal^of  his  maekare. 
l;a  IS  tat,    said  Peter,  who  f.rst  stared  wildly  at  him,  and  then 

''1  am  a  man  of  peace,"  said  Jehu,  (who  appeared  to  have  for- 
gotten  the  aberrations  of  the  last  evening,  and   had  i^sumld  h 
usual  sanctimoniouslyfied  manner.)     "Swear  not  friend  k  is  a 
abommafon,  and  becometh  not  a  christian  man  ''  '  '  " 

memory.''"'  '''"'''^'  ^'  '""'^  ""'  ""^'  ^'^  ^:^^«'  ^'«  ^^^'^  ^r  his 

rilJtnZ?Tl^^'-?'**''/r,^''"' ^^^  hands  as  usual  involunta- 
rily protec  ed  his  sides,  and  he  burst  out  a  laughin-  in  his  face  and 

^v'Jn^'ol"^  I  'T''  ""   ^'^'  g^^^^'  ''''  <^«-"'  -d  ro  led  over 
saying;  "Oh,  oh  that  man  will  be  the  death  of  me."     The  r^^rls 

nearly  .vent  mto  hysterics,  and  Cutler,  though  evident  y  not  apDrov 
in^  of  the  practical  joke,  as  only  fit  fa-  n.ii?tary  li?  ?n"bleTo  con-' 
t.m  himself;  walked  away.     The  French  boy,  Etie  me,  fi-ightened 
Jt  his  hornblc  expression  of  flice,  retreated  backwardrcrosed 
himself  most  devoutly  and  muttered  an  Ave  Maria  ' 

crav^r-l),       '^'  V?'^  /'  ^''  ^  ^^^  '^'  °"^^'  «"^  ^^ho  retaiiied  my 
gravity,     thee  ought  not  to  wear  a  mask,  ic  is  a  bad  sign."        ^ 

"I  wear  no  ma.k,  Mr.  Slick,"  he  said,  "  I  use  no  diUises  and 
It  does  not  become  a  professing  man  like  you,  co  jee?anrsc^ff 
because  I  reprove  the  man  Peter  for  his  profaneness." 

1  eter  stamped  and  raved  like  a  madman,  aud  had  to  resort  fn 
Ga.bc  to  disburden  his  mind  of  his  effervescence.  He  t!  reatded 
to  shoot  .rnn,  he  koev.  him  very  well,  he  said,  for  he  had  seen  £m 
before  on  the  prairies.  He  was  a  Kentucky  villain  a  forger^ 
tief,  a  Yanljee  spy,  sent  to  excite  the  Indians  against  he  EnSish 
He  knew  his  false  moustachios,  he  would  swel-  to  them  in  an v 
court  ot  jirst.ce  in  the  world.  "  Deil  a  bit  is  ta  Loon,  Jehu  Judd^> 
he  said   '•  her  name  is  prayin'  Joe,  the  horsestealer."  ' 

lun-  the  truth  of  this  charge  he  appealed  to  his  daughters  who 

"  That  man  ofSatan,"  said  Jehu,  looking  very  uncomfortab'r.  a, 
h.  «w  Peter  flourishing  a  short  dirlc,  and°tho  DoZ  hoTdtog  him 


■.«    "1 


STITCHING     A    BUTT0N-H0L3. 


109 


back  and  remonstrating  with  him.     «  That  man  cf  Satan  I  n-ver 

S^V'r''''^"-^' ''!''"  ^  entered  his  house,  where  there  was 
Jiddiififf  and  JatKiTiff,  and  serving  ihe  devil.  I'ruly  mv  hep  1  became 
d-zzy  at  the  sight   my  heart  sunk  within  me  KlSn^su^h 

"Then  ho  visited  thee,  fri^.d,"  I  said,  »  in  thy  sleep,  and  placed 

When  ho  saw  himself,  ha  started  back  in  great  torrcr,  and  gave 
vent  to  ft  long,  low,  guttural  groan,  like  a  man  v.ho  is  suffS 
mtcuse  agony  "What  in  th^vorid  is  all  this  r'  he  said  q^ 
again  approached  the  glass  and  again  retreated  rith  a  look  of 
uuspeakab  e  despair,  groaning  like  a  thousand  si.-.rs,  and  swelled 
out  about  the  head  and  throat  like  a  startled  blauzer-s'nake  After 
which  he  pa  his  hand  on  his  lip  and  discovered  there  was  no  hair 
lie  then  took  courage  and  advanced  once  mor  and  exambed  ii 
carefully  and  rubbed  It,  but  'it  did  not  remove  it.  ^^'^"^'^^"^  '^ 

Jlo  has  burned  it  into  the  skin,"  I  said,  »  he  hath  made  thee 

sVnTb.';  TllTr''''l\''''  ''^'  "^"^"^^^  -^--  «'-  thou 
usod  dbguiscs  »  '  '""'^'^  ""'"  ''''^^'    ^^^^«  '^''^  '^'^  "^^'^^ 

;•  Never/'  he  said,  «'  never,  Mr.  Slick." 

"  ^\^f-  Slick,"  said  he,  leaving  off  his  cant,  and  really  look-ne 
like  a  different  man,  "  dod  drot  it,  it  is  a  jist  puni  hment  I 
knock  under  I  holler,  I  give  in,  have  mercy  on  me.^  Can  you  rid 
me  of  this  hornd  mark,  for  I  cVf  flunk  out  in  the  street'Tth^ 


rig. 


is  tlTl'  „  '  ^"'  ^  '^^"  ^^  '^  ^^  «"-  ^^"^ition  only,  and  that 
lonl  f,r  -'"%f.^^^  canting  that  way,  and  coverin' tricks  -..ith 
long  faces,  ana  things  too  serious  to  mention  now,  for  that  is 
doubly  wicked.     Cheatin'  ain't  pretty  at  no  time,  thoughTvouldn't 

rte'in  at'"  '  "''"t'^  '"^J  ^^"'"'  ^^^^  «^*»^^  ^^^^f  eend  of  the 
rope  m  a  bargain.  I  have  done  it  myself.  Or  puttin'  the  leak 
into  a  consaited  critter  sometimes  for  fun.     But  to  chea^  an°    -ant 

W  d  flfj''''  -^r*^'"''  '^  \  ^^'^f  ^''''''  that  ornamental  eign- 
new  shop  r'^"""  ''      ^''''  "^  ^^''*  ^^"^  ^'  ^^^^"^'^  ^"^  «^t  up  a 

ainWnl'n^w'isIlr  "^'"  "^  ""^"^'^^  '^  ''^  ^^^^-'^-     ^hat 
"  Well,  now  you  never  said  a  truer  wcid,"  said  I,  "  you  will  be 


■<-  /■ 


110 


II 


|i|i'i. 


STITOHrNO     A     KUTTON-IIOLE 


d— d  if  you  don't,  that's  a  fact.    But  there  is  no  use  to  run  to 
the  other  extreme,  neither." 

"Are  you  a  preacher  ? "  said  he,  and  I  thought  he  gave  me  a 
sly  ioolc  out  of  the  co'ner  of  his  eve,  as  much  as  to  say  "how 
good  we  are,  ain't  we,"  as  sin  said  when  the  devil  was  rebu'kin'  of 
him.  The  flict  is,  the  fellow  was  a  thunderin'  knave,  but  he  was 
no  fool,  further  than  being  silly  enough  to  be  a  knave. 

"  No,"  sais  ],  "  1  ain't,  I  scorn  a  man  dubbin'  himself  preacher 
without  the  broughtens  up  to  it,  and  a  lawful  warrant  for  beina 
one.     And  I  scorn  cant,  it  ain't  necessary  to  trade.     If  you  want 
that  proved  to  you,  wait  till  I  return  to-morrow,  and  if  you  get  to 
wmderd  of  me  in  a  bargain,  I'll  give  you  leave  to  put  the  musta- 
Chios  on  me,  that's  a  fact.     My  maxim  is  to  buy  as  low,  and  sell 
as  high  as  I  can,  provided  the  article  will  bear  a  large  profit.     If 
not,  1  take  a  moderate  advance,  turn  the  penny  quick,  and  at  it 
again      I  will  compound  something  that  will  take  out  your  false 
hair,  for  I  don't  think  it  will  be  easy  to  shave  it  oiT.     It  ail  came 
of  pretence.     What  in  the  world  was  the  reason  you  couldn't  walk 
quietly  into  the  cantccoi,  where  people  were  enjoying  themselves 
and  eiUier  join  them,  oi-  if  you  had  scruples,  keep  them  to  yourself 
and  sit  by.      Nobody  would  have  molested  you.      Nothincr  but 
cant  led  you  to  join  temperance  societies.     A  man  ought  to  be 
able  to  use,  not  abuse  liquor,  but  the  moment  you  oblig'iite  your- 
self  not  to  touch  it,  it  kinder  sets  you  a  hankering  after  it,  and  if 
you  taste  it  after  that,  it  upsets  you,  as  it  did  last  night.     li  ain't 
easy  to  wean  a  calf  that  takes  to  suckin'  the  second  time,  that's  a  fact 
iour  pretence  set  folks  agin'   you.      They   didn't  half  like  the 
interruption  for  one  thing,  and  then  the  way  you  acted  made  them 
disrespect  you.     So  you  got  a  most  an  all-fired  tric-k  played  on 
you.     And  I  must  say  it  sarves  you  right.     Now,  sais  I,  go  on 
board  and —  ° 

"Oh,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  "oh  now,  that's  a  good  feUow  lon't 
send  me  on  board,  such  a  figure  as  this,  I'd  rather  die  fust  I'd 
never  he^ir  the  last  of  it.  The  men  wouid  make  me  the  lau.d'iing 
stock  of  Quaco.     Oh,  1  can't  go  on  board."  '^ 

"Well,'' sais  I,  "go  to  bed  then,  and  put  a  poultice  on  your 
face,  to  soften  the  skin."  Ihat  wai-n't  necessary  at  all,  but  1  said 
It  to  punish  him.  "  And  when  I  come  back,  I  will  give  vou  a 
wash  that  will  make  your  face  as  white  and  as  smooth"  as  a 
baby  s." 

I'tV.^'  ¥\'  ^^''""S'  ^^''^  ^'®'  "  couldn't  you—"  but  I  turned  away, 
and'didn't  hear  him  out.  ^ 

By  the  time  1  had  done  with  him,  we  were  all  ready  to  start 
tor  the  Bachelor  Beaver.  Peter  borrowed  an  r  -.tra  horse  and 
waggon,  and  drove  his  youngest  daughter.  Cutler  drove  Jessie  in 
another,  and  the  Doctor  and  I  walked. 


*'ii 


STITPHINO     A     BUTTON-HOLE. 


Ill 


gave  me  a 


"  We  can  travel  as  fast  as  they  can,"  he  said,  "  for  part  of  tho 
road  is  full  of  stumps,  and  very  rough,  and  I  like  the  arrangement, 
and  want  to  have  a  talk  with  you  about  all  sorts  of  things." 

After  travelling  about  two  miles,  we  struck  ofl:^  the  main  high- 
way,  into  a  wood-road,  in  which  stones,  hillocks,  and  roots  of  trees, 
so  impeded  the  waggons,  that  we  passed  them,  and  took  the  lead.  ' 

"  Are  you  charged  ?"  said  the  Doctor,  »  if  not,  I  think  we  mav 
as  well  do  so  now." 

•'  Perhaps)  it  would  be  advisable,^  -^aid  I.  "  But  where  is  your 
gun  ?  "  *' 

"I  generally  am  so  well  loaded,"  he  replied,  "  when  I  go  to  the 
woods,  I  find  it  an  incumbrance.  In  addition  to  my  other  traps  I 
find  forty  weight  of  pcmican  as  much  as  I  can  carry."  ' 

"  Pemican;'*  sais  J,  "  what  in  natur  is  that  ?"  I  knew  a?  well  as 
he  did  what  it  was,  for  a  man  that  don't  understand  how  to  make 
that,  don't  know  the  very  abeselfa  cf  wood-craft.  But  I  tell  you 
what,  Squire,  unless  you  want  to  be  hated,  don't  let  on  you  know 
all  that  a  feller  can  tell  you.  The  more  you  do  know,  the  more 
folks  are  afeared  to  be  able  to  tell  you  something  new.  It  flatters 
their  vanity,  and  it's  a  harmless  piece  of  politeness,  as  well  as  good 
policy  to  listen  ;  for  who  the  plague  will  attend  to  you,  if  you 
won't  condescend  to  hear  them?  Conversation  is  a  barter,  in 
ivhich  one  thing  is  swapped  for  another,  and  you  must  abide  by  the 
laivs  of  trade.  What  you  give,  costs  you  nothing  ;  and  what  vou 
get,  may  be  worth  nothing  ;  so,  if  you  don't  gain  much,  you  don't 
lose,  at  alUveuts.     "  So,"  sais  J,  "  what  in  natur  is  pemican  1" 

"Why,"  sais  he,  "  it  is  formed  by  pounding  the  choice  parts  of 
venison  or  other  meat  very  small,  dried  over  a  slack  fire,  or  by  the 
frost,  and  put  into  bags,  made  of  the  skin  of  the  slain  animal,  into 
which  a  portion  of  melted  fat  is  poured.  The  whole  being  then 
strongly  pressed,  and  sewed  up  in  bags,  constitutes  the  best,  and 
most  portable  food  known;  and  one  which  will  keep  a  great 
length  of  time.  If  a  dainty  man,  like  you,  wishes  to  improve  its 
flavor,  you  may  spice  it." 

"  What  a  grand  thing  that  would  be  for  soldie.s,  duriufr  forced 
marches,  wouldn't  it  ?  Well,  Doctor,"  sais  I,  "  that's  a  wrinkle 
aint  it  ?  But  vho  ever  heard  of  a  colonial  minister  knowing  anv- 
think  of  colony  habits "?"  "^ 

"  If  we  have  a  chance  to  kill  a  deer,"  he  said,  "  I  will  show  you 
how  to  make  it,"  ai\d  he  looked  as  pleased  to  give  me  that  informa. 
tion,  as  if  he  had  invented  it  himself  »  So  I  use  this  instead  of  a 
gun,  he  continued,  producing  a  long,  thick-barreled  pistol,  of  capi. 
tal  workmanship,  and  well  inounted.  "  I  prefer  this,  it  answers 
every  purpose  ;  and  is  easy  to  carry.  There  are  no  wolves  here, 
and  bears  never  attack  you,  unless  molested,  so  that  the  gun-barrel 

*  See  Dunn's  "  Oregcwi." 


112 


¥     L   Ji 


i 


,1  ', 

I'i  I, 


Mt 


|;M:    .Ik 


;• 


STITUIIING     A     BUTTON-HOLE. 


18  not  needed  as  a  club  ;  and  if  Brum  once  pots  a  taste  of  this  he 
IS  in  no  lurry  to  face  it  again.  The  groat  thing  is  to  know  how  to 
snoot  and  where  to  hit.  Now,  it's  no  use  to  fire  at  the  head  of  a 
bear,  the  proper  place  to  aim  for  is  the  side,  just  back  of  the  fore 
leg..   Are  you  a  good  shot  ?"  *"  ^  *°'* 

bon'.Y'^Cr'?  ^'  "^  T'*^  ''''S,  for  I  have  seen  them  that  could 
beat  me  at  that  game;  but,  in  a  general  way,  1  don't  calculate   o 
th.ow  away  my  lead.     Ifs  scarce  in  the  woods      SupposT though 
we  have  a  tnal.     Do  you  see  that  blaze  in  the  hcmlolf  tr";,  S 

cen^e."'  ^"^  "^'  ""''^  ^'  ^'''''^  ^^  ""''"^  ^'''^'  ^"^  ^"*  '^  ^'^^^^'y  ^^  the 
"  Well,''  sals  I,  «  you  scare  me.     To  tell  you  the  truth  I  didn't 

on '?,  ?and  teS!  ''"'  ''  '^'  ^""•"     ^^^"'  ^  ^^'^^  ^  ^-<^  fi'^; 

"anJtlir'i  •'  '''''  'u'»"'"  '"^^  ^-  ('^'"'^"^S  I  ^^^  "^J^^^^d  it,) 
ana  nardly  pJani  enough."  '' 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  I  had  gone  a  one  side  or  th-^,  other  "  said 

but^rcr  t'  "^  *?\"'  'r^''''  ^^  ^^"'^  your  balSerh  t 
but  1  gue.s  I  have  only  turned  it  round.     See,  I  have  cut  a  littlo 

grain  of  the  bark  off  the  right  side  of  the  circle.^  "^' 

fh.  hr   -"'"'^  ^''''  "  ^^'^''^  ^''"'^^  ^'*^  "«a^-  enough  to  give  a  critter 

that  s  wha  I  have  never  seen  in  this  province.  Strancre  too  ibr 
you  don't  live  in  the  woods,  as  I  do  "  °  '       ' 

reau^t'  ^  n  'T ''"'"  '"'^  ^'  "  l  '^^^°^  ^'^^  P^-'^^'ice,  you,  when  you 
rcqune  It.     Use  keeps  your  hand  in,  but  it  wouldn't  do  it  for  L  - 

iri^l  ^^'  P'^'^'^'^^S,  whenever  I  can.  When  I  go  to  he 
woods,  which  a-rt  as  often  now  as  I  could  wish,  for  they  fhit  to  be 
found  everywhei.  .n  our  great  country,  I  enjoy  it  ^J^^th 111  my 

the  rini  f  "''^  ''  "'  ^''"  "^"  ^^°"^^^'  ^"d  Jt  don't  care  to  have 
the  Clockmaker  run  rigs  on.  A  man's  life  often  denends  on  his 
shot,  and  he  ought  to  be  afraid  of  nothin.     Some  men,  too  are  4 

Trzrr'f  '^^^^ '  y  ^^^^^  '"^«-  ^^  -« snuFa  s 

som.  on!  ll      1"^""''  ''^^'  ^^^y  «^'«  ''^Pt  to  try  their  luck  with 

feeTing  that      '  ''"'  "^  '"  '""^'  ''^'^^''^  ""•     ^^'^  ^  ^«"^^^«" 

"  The  best  shot  I  ever  knew,  was  a  tailor,  at  Albanv      He  uspd 

^llotvl^as'^^^f  ""r''''  ^V'^^"^^^*  sometimes,^  the  vo" 
S    ofX  f    '!  ^r''  ^  '^^  "'  ^'^^"^^^^-     They  talked  of  the 
sH,ts  o    the  fore'it,  the  capes  of  the  Hudson,  laughing  in  their 

telJows  ears,   taknig  a  tuck-in  af,  li.noh   /^r  ^oii:^„  ^:.,l:„i;„  „„ 

iTtth^v tlT'l''"V^"'!'l '  ""''  r^y ''"^  ""/o' these  wS'fam: 
Wt,  they  all  laughed  like  anything. 


BTlTCniNO    ^     BUTTON-HOLE. 


118 


;oo,  are  as 


■    l^i"""'  [^^^^'^tter  who  was  really  a  capital  fellow,  used  to  join 
m  the  laugh  himself,  but  still  grinnin'  i.  ni  proof  a  man  eniovs  i 

do    but  practise  m  secret  every  morning  and  evening  at  pistol! 

S^?tse^f '"w  I'r  '^  'r*  T^  ^^  ™  ^  ^»^«^^  --^«  ^ha^n  per. 
tcction  Itself.     Well,  one  day  he  was  out  with  a  partv  of  them 

same  coons,  and  they  began  to  run  the  old  rig  on^hizn  as  usuaT 

And  he  jumps  up  on  eend,  and  in  a  joking  kind  o'  way    said  * 

Gent^...  can  an^  of  you  .tiick  aJton-kole,  with  thrXttonIn 

iUr.  .         'w'  if""''  ^^n^'  '  ^"^  ''''"'^'  «^°^  ^«.  Tuimble,  will  you  ? 
J>ne      ifrr     ;'"'"•     ?^°"^'/'^f^h  the  ^oo..,  t'o  press  i't  when  it's 
done.     Dick,  cabbage  a  bit  of  cloth  for  him^4o  try  it  upon.     Whv 
lorn,  you  are  as  sharp  as  a  needle:  ^^  ^' 

"  '  Well,'  sais  he,  '  I'll  show  you.' 

,u\  ^hJ^  IT  -'^  I  ^''^^'  ^""^  ^""^^  «"^  «f  h'«  Vooket  a  fippenny  bit, 
that  had  a  hole  m  the  centre,  and  putting  in  it  a  smail  nail  which 
he^had  provided,  he  fastened  it  to  the  tree.  ' 

"  Now,'  said  he,  taking  out  a  pair  of  pistols,  and  lots  of  ammu- 
njt.on,  from  the  bottom  of  his  prog-basket,  whe're  he  had  hid  them. 
ZZh^Ti  '  f;"^'^''*^'^'  tl^e  way  to  stitch  a  button-hole,  is  to 
put  balls  a  round  that  button,  in  a  close  ring,  and  never  disturb 
them  ;  that  s  what  we  tailors  call  workmanlike,'  and  he  fired  away, 
shot  after  shot,  till  he  had  done  it.  ^' 

"'Now,' said  he  'gentlemen?,,  that  button  has  to  be  fastened,' 

and  he  fired,  and  drove  the  nail  that  it  hung  on,  into  the  tree. 

And  now,  gentle;^./?,'  said  he,  '  I  have  stood  your  shots  for  many 

a  long  day  ;  turn  about  is  f..ir  play.     The  first  rv^an  that  cracks  i 

joke  at  me  on  account  of  my  calling,  must  stand  my  shot,  and  if 

u  w  f   u  h'^button-hole  for  him,  I  am  no  tailor  ;  that's  all.' 
Well,  they  a  1  cheered  him  when  he  sat  down,  and  they  drank 

^nf  H      '  n'u-^^^o^K"'^  f!^^  "^^y  '^'^  =  '  Well,  Street,  (afore  that 

heusedtocall  him  Thimble,)  well.  Street,'  said  he,  'you  Laman.' 

Ihere  you  are  again,'  said  Street ;  '  that  is  a  covered  joke  at 

a  tailc,r  being  only  the  ninth  part  of  one.     1  pass  it  over  this  time, 

but  let  s  have  r  :>  more  of  it.' 

"'No,  Sirrf^,  no,'  said  boss;  'on  honor  now,  I  didn't  mean  it. 
And  1  say,  too,  let  there  be  no  more  of  it.' " 

"  Not  a  bad  story  !"  said  the  Doctor.  "  A  man  ought  to  be  able 
to  take  his  own  part  in  the  world  ;  but  my  idea  is,  we  think  too 
much  o.  guns.  Do  you  know  anything  of  arche  ?" 
,  -A  httle,''  sais  I,  "at  least  folks  say  so;  but  then  they  really 
give  me  credit  for  what  I  don't  cJeserve;  they  say  I  draw  a  ihuii- 
uerin  long  bow  sometimes." 

"Oh!  oh!"  he  said  laughing,  '' iposUlvely,  rs  the  fellow  said  to 
me  tailor,  ;  o  :  H  give  me  a  stitch  in  my  side.     Well,  that's  better 


m . 


m 


114 

than 


STITCHING     A    BUTTON-HOLE. 


)elng  ^sewed  up,'  as  Jehu  was  last  night.     But,  se/iously,  d« 
yon  ever  use  the  bow  ?" 

"  Well,  I  have  tried  the  South  American  bow,  and  it's  a  power- 
ful weapon  th;it ;  ])ut  it  takes  a  man  to  draw  it,  I  tell  you." 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  it  requires  a  strong  arm ;  but  ihe  exercise  is 
good  for  the  chest.     Wh  the  one  I  generally  use.     The  bow  is  a 
great  weapon,  and  the  oldest  in  the  world.     I  believe  I  have  a 
tolerable  collection  of  them.     The  Indian  bow  was  more  or  less  ex- 
CL'Dent,  according  to  the  wood  they  had  ;  but  they  could  never  have 
been  worth  much  here,  for  the  country  produces  no  suitable  material. 
The  old  English  long  bow,  perhaps,  is  a  good  one  ;  but  it  is  not  so 
powerful  as  the  Turiiish.     That  has  immense  power.     Ihey  say  it 
will  carry  an  a.row  from  four  hundred  and  fifty  to  five  nundred 
yards.     Mine,  perhaps,  is  not  a  first-rate  one,  nor  am  I  what  I  call 
a  skilful  archer;  but  I  can  reach  beyond  three  hundred  yards— 
though  that  is  an  immense  distance.     The  gun  has  superseded  them ; 
but  though  superior  in  many  respects,  tiie  other  has  some  qualities 
that  are  invaluable.     In  skirmishing,  or  in  surprising  outposts,  what 
an  advantage  it  is  to  avoid  the  alarm  and  noise  occasioned  by  fire- 
arms.    All  troops  engaged  in  this  service  in  addition  to  the  rifle 
ought  to  have  the  bow  and  the  quiver.     What  an  advantage  it 
would  have  been  in  the  CafTre  war,  and  how  serviceable  now  in  the 
Crimea.     They  are  light  to  carry  and  quickly  discharged.     When 
we  get  ro  my  liouse,  1  will  prove  it  to  you.     We  will  set  up  two 
targets,  at  one  hundred  yards,  say.     You  shall  fire  from  one  to  the 
other,  and  then  stand  aside,  and  before  you  can  reload  I  will  put 
three  arrows  into  yours.     1  should  say  four  to  a  common  soldier's 
practice  ;  but  I  give  even  you  three  to  one.     If  a  man  misses  his 
first  shot  at  me  with  a  gun,  he  is  victimized,  for  I  have  three  chances 
in  return  before  he  gets  his  second,  and  if  1  don't  pink  him  with  one 
or  the  other,  why,  I  deserve  to  be  hit.     For  the  same  reason,  what 
a  glorious  cavalry  weapon  it  is,  as  the  Parthians  knew.     What  a 
splendid  thing  for  an  ambush,  where  you  are  neither  seen  nor  heard. 
1  don't  mean  to  say  they  are  better  than  fire-arms ;  but,  occasion- 
ally used  with  them  they  would  be  irresistible.     If  I  were  a  British 
officer  in  command  I  w^ould  astonish  the  enemy." 

"  You  would  astonish  the  Horse-Guards,  too,  /  kn'^w,"  said  I. 
"  It  would  ruin  you  for  ever.  They'd  call  you  old  '  bows  and  arrows,' 
as  they  did  the  general  that  had  no  flints  to  his  guns,  when  he  at- 
tacked Buenos  Ayres  ;  they'd  have  you  up  in  '  Punch  ;'  they'd  draw 
you  as  Cupid  going  to  war;  they'd  nickname  you  a  ^o«6'-street 
officer.  Oh!  they'd  soon  teach  you  what  a  quiver  was.  They'd 
play  the  devil  with  you.  They'd  beat  you  at  your  own  game; 
you'd  be  stuck  full  of  poisoned  arrows;  you  could  as  easily  intro- 
duco  t'ne  queue  again,  as  the  bow." 
"  Well  Cressey,  Poictiers,  and  Agincourt  were  won  with  the  bow," 


se/iously,  d« 

it's  a  power- 

J  exercise  is 
he  bow  is  a 
'e  I  have  a 
e  or  less  ex- 
1  never  have 
:jle  material. 
t  it  is  not  so 
Diey  say  it 
ive  nundred 
[  what  I  call 
'ed  yards — 
ieded  them ; 
ne  qualities 
tposts,  what 
ned  by  fire- 
to  the  rifle 
d  vantage  it 
i  now  in  the 
ed.     When 
set  up  two 
I  one  to  the 
.  I  will  put 
on  soldier's 
misses  his 
iree  chances 
m  with  one 
eason,  what 
.     What  a 
I  nor  heard. 
t,  occasion- 
'e  a  British 

w,"  said  I. 
tid  arrows,' 
^hen  he  at- 
hey'd  draw 
^o«6'-stroet 
3.  They'd 
wn  game; 
isily  intro- 


STITCHING     A     BUTTON-HOLE. 


115 


he  said,  and,  as  an  auxiliary  weapon,  it  is  still  as  effective  as  ever 
Ilowever,  that  is  not  a  mere  speculation.  When  I  go  out  after  cai 
riboo,  I  always  carry  mine,  and  seldom  use  my  gun.  It  don't 
alarin  he  herd  ;  they  don't  know  where  the  shaft  comes  from,  and 
are  as  likely  to  look  for  it  in  the  lake  or  in  the  wild  grass,  as  any 
where  else.  Let  us  try  them  together.  But  let  us  load  v/ith  shot 
now.  We  shall  come  to  the  brook  directly,  and  where  it  spreads 
out  into  still  water,  and  the  flags  grow,  the  wild  fowl  frequent ;  for 
tney  are  amaz.n  fond  of  poke-iok<3ins,a8  the  Indians  cHl  those  spots 
We  may  get  a  brace  or  two,  perhaps,  to  take  home  with  us.  Come 
let  us  push  ahead,  and  go  warily."  v^uuiu, 

After  awhile  a  sudden  turn  of  the  road  disclosed  to  us  a  flock  of 
blue-winged  ducks,  and  he  whispered,  "  Do  you  fire  to  the  vthl 
and  I  will  take  the  left  »  When'the  smoke  flZ  our  simultanS 
discharges  cleared  away,  we  saw  the  flock  rise,  leaving  five  of  their 
numberas  victims  of  their  cpreless  watch  ve  m  uitii 

"  That  is  just  what  I  said,"  he  remarked,  "  the  gun  is  superior  in 
many  respects;  but  if  we  had  our  bows  here,  we  would  h^ave  had 
each  two  more  shots  at  them,  while  on  the  wing.  As  it  is  Te  can't 
re  oad  till  they  are  out  of  reach.  I  only  spoke^of  the  bow^Isubor! 
dn  ate  ana  auxiliary;  but  never  as  a  substitute.  Althoucrh  I  am 
not  certain  that  with  our  present  manufacturing  skill,  metallic  bows 
could  not  now  be  made,  equal  in  power,  superior  in  lightneSs  and 
more  effective  than  any  gun  when  the  object  to  be  aimed  at  is  not 
too  minute,  tor  in  that  particular,  the  rifle  will  never  be  equalled- 
certainly  not  surpassed."  ^ 

The  retriever  soon  brought  us  our  birds,  and   we  proceeded 
leisurely  on  our  way,  and,  in  a  short  time  were  overtaken  by  the 
waggons,  when  we  advanced  together  towards  the  house,  which  we 
leached  in  about  an  hour  more.     As  soon  as  we  came  in  sight  of  it 
he  dogs  gave  notice  of  our  approach,  and  a  tall,  straight,  priggish! 
look.ng  man,  inarched,  for  he  did  not  hurry  himself,  bareheaded  to- 
wards the  bars  in  the  pole  fence.     He  was  soon  aftewa.  ds  followed 
by  a  little  old  woman  at  a  foot  amble,  or  sort  of  broken  trot,  such 
as  distinguishes  a  Naraganset  pacer.     She  had  a  hat  in  her  hand 
which  she  hastily  put  on  the  man's  head.     But,  as  she  had  to  jump 
up  to  do  It,  she  eflected  it  with  a  force  that  made  it  cover  his  eyes 
and  nearly  extinguish  his  nose.     It  caused  the  man  to  stop  and 
adjust  It,  when  he  turned  round  to  his  flapper,  and,  by  the  nidation 
ot  his  hand,  and  her  retrogade  movement,  it  appeared  he  did  not 
receive  this  delicate  attention   very  graciously.     Duty,  however 
was  pressing  him,  and  he  resumed  his  stately  step  towards  tliJ 

She  attacked  hiiu  again  In  the  rear,  as  a  goose  does  an  intruder, 
and  now  and  then  picked  something  from  his  coat,  which  I  supposed 
to  be  a  vagrant  thread,  or  a  piece  of  lint  or  straw,  and  then  retreated 


(.4 
* 


116 


if     > 


I 


1 

;                                                                  i, 

'              1 

'i 

8TIT0IIINO     A    BUTTON-HOL 


E. 


f'      lilt 


a  step  or  t^yo,  to  avoid  oloser  contact.     He  was  compelled  at  last 
to  turn  again  on  his  pursuer,  and  expostulate  with  her  in  no  gentle 
terms.     I  heard  the  M'ords,  "mind  your  own  business,"  or  som^ 
thing  of  the  kind,  and  the  female  voice  more  distinctly  (women 
always  have  the  best  of  it)  ;  "  You  look  as  if  you  had  slept  in  it 
You  aint  fit  to  appear  before  gentlemen."     Ladies  she  had  been 
mmccustomed  of  late   to   see,  and   therefore   omitted   altogether 
What  would  Colonel  Jones  say,  if  he  saw  you  that  way."  ° 
lo  which  the  impatient  man  replied :  »  Colonel  Jones  be  hancred 
He  is  not  my  commanding  officer,  or  you  either-take  that,  will  you' 
old  ooman."     If  the  colonel  was  not  there  his  master  w  .s  therefore 
pressing  forward,  he  took  down  the  bars,  and  removed  them  a  one 
side,  when  he  drew  himself  bolt  upright,  near  one  of  the  posts,  and 
placing  his  hand  across  his  forehead,  remained  in  that  position 
without  uttering  a  word,  till  the  waggons  passed,  and  the  Doc^oi- 
said,  -  Wei    Jackson  how  are  you  ?"     «  Hearty,  sir  !     I  hope  your 
honor  IS  well?     Why,  Buscar,  is  that  you,  dog     how  are  /ouf my 
man?     and  then  he  proceeded  very  expeditiously  to  replace  the 

"What  are  you  stopping  for?"  said  the  Doctor  to  me,  for  the 
whole  party  was  waiting  for  us.  ' 

"  I  was  admirin'  of  them  bars,"  said  I. 

"Why  they  are  the  commonest  things  in  the  country,"  he 
replied.  '  Did  you  never  see  them  before  ?"  Of  course  I  had  % 
thousand  times,  but  I  didn't  choose  to  answer.  ' 

"  What  a  most  beautiful  contrivance,"  said*  I,  "  thev  are  First 
you  can  t  find  them  if  you  don't  know  beforehand  where  they  are' 
they  look  so  like  the  rest  of  the  fence.  It  tante  one  strangeV  in  a 
thousand  could  take  them  down,  for  if  he  begins  at  the  top  thev 
get  awfully  tangled  and  if  he  pulls  the  wrong  wav,  the  harder  he 
hauls  the  tighter  they  get.  Then  he  has  to  drag'them  all  out  of 
he  way  so  as  to  lead  the  horse  through,  and  leave  him  standin' 
there  till  he  puts  th.m  up  agin,  and  as  like  as  not,  the  critter  gets 
ired  of  waitin  races  off  to  the  stable,  and  breaks  the  waggon  all 
to  flinders.  After  all  these  advantage.,  they  don't  cost  bu 
shilling  or  so  more  than  a  gate.     Oh,  it's  grand  " 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  Doctor,  "I  never  thought  of  that  afore, 
but  you  are  right  after  all  "  and  he  laughed  as  good  humoredly  as 
possible.     "Jackson,"  said  he.  ^ 

"  Yes,  your  honor." 
"  We  must  have  a  gate  there." 

"  Certainly  "  said  the  servant,  touching  his  hat.  But  he  honored 
me  with  a  look,  as  much  as  to  say,  "thank  you  for  nothing.  Sir. 
Its  a  pitv  you  hadn't  served  under  Colonel  Jones,  for  he  would 
have  taught  you  to  mind  your  own  business  double  quick  " 

We  then  proceeded  to  tU  door,  and  the  Doctor  welcomed  the 


8TIT0HINO     A     BUTTON-HOLE. 


117 


party  to  the  "  Bachelor  Bfaver's-dam,"  as  he  cul] Prl  \t      T«  ,u 
meant  me  the  bustHng  little  old  womL/rettne^l^'xpresed 
great  del.ght  at  seeing  us.     The  place  was  so  loneson^e  she  safd 
and  it  was  so  peasant  to  see  ladies  there,  for  they TrV  tb'  fi^  ^ 
who  had  ever  v.sited  the  Doctor,  and  it  ;as  so  kfnd  of  th 'rn  t. 
come  so  far,  and  she  hoped  they  ^ould  often  hono.  the  pile;  with 

Se  haronl^h'  ^'.t^  '°"J^P."'  "P  ^^^^  ^^eir  accommodat^n  tr 
she  had  only  heard  from  the  Doctor  the  night  before  •  and  sHp  wn« 
so  sorry  she  couldn't  receive  them  as  she  could  wLh  and  a  wh^l 

IZirtr  '"'  "^  ^PP^!^^^^  ^""Ser  than  that  :  da 'index  to 
'  T„i         •  P'"^;"?  ™  so  umbled  you  couldn't  find  nothin' 

so  brd'^suSel  Vf  >"■''  '^  ^^^^^"^^  ^^«  comnlwt  was 
fTnf  .2^  supplied  That  it  was  a  poor  country  to  fora^re  in  inrl 
tlm  there  was  nothing  b.it  the  comn^on  rations  and  stores  ft  'r  the 
detachment  stationed  there.  But  that  nothing  should  be  wnntn^ 
on  h,s  part,  and  so  on.  The  housekeeper  led  tL  ^y  to  thranarf 
ments  destmed  for  the  girls.  Peter  assisted  the  boy  to  inhXss 
the  horses  a.id  the  Doctor  showed  Cutler  and  myse¥  into    hrhalT 

t'ot:  we'll   rf  he ''''^"'"  ^^^'^^"^•     Seeing'jalLsrmtl  i^^ 
to  the  well,  a.  if  he  was  on  parade,  I  left  the  two  to^rether  in  con 
versation,  and  went  out  to  talk  to  him  to^emer  m  con- 

"  Sergeant,"  sais  I. 

hiJ S  t'oXeW'"  "''  '^'  '"'  '^  P"^  ^'^^'^  ^'-  ^^^  -^  --d 
time/ ""'^"'''""'^  ^'"'  ^^^^  '"""  '^  ^''^^  ^'^^  «^  «<^rvice  in  your 

wer JS  ^!;^r''lt]7>  ;^  ^'^ V^'?''  ^"^  ''  ^^  ^^^  t^"^"^^  tacks 
r  deal  nrtni'-  '  •  ^^  *e  right  subject.  "  I  ave  gone  throu-h 
a_  deal  of  soldiering  in  my  day,  and  been  in  many  a  ard  fight, 

"I  see  you  have  the  marks  on  you  "  J  said      "Thof  ;=  „  -u  j 
scar  on  your  face."  ^^  ^^  ^  '^^^ 

h^luhfvrf'i  '^^'.J'''  *"''^^"-  >'°"''  Pi'^sence,  I  wish  the  devil 
had  the  I^  renchman  that  gave  me  that  wound.     I  have  some  I  am 
F^ud  of  havmg  received  in  the  service  of  my  king  andTountry 
have   hree  balls  m  me  now,  which  the  doctors  couldnVeS' 
and  nothm'  but  death  will  bring  to  the  light  of  day  a^ain  tf    hev 

IZir^  't  ?'  '''"  ^"  '^'  ^''''-     ^"t  Ihat  scar^is  the  oni  '?;g 
graceful  mark  I  ever  received  since  I  first  joined  in  1808         ^ 

O..J  7%  "^^""^  ^^^""'^   '^^g^  to  Badajoz,  Sir,  I  was  in  the 

cavalry,  and  I  was  sent  with  a  message  to  a  bnVadrthat  was 
posted  some  distance  from  us.  Well,  Sh-,  as  I  was  ?rottinTlT 
saw  a  French  dragoon,  well  mounted.  lpnrlin„  n  o.i!jS"!"?_-^'.^"^' 
bcion^ng  to  some-Krench  hofiicer  of^rank:i^s'fa:*as  U^IS 
from  h.s  happearanee  and  mountings.  Instead  of  pursmW  n?^ 
course,  as  I  ought  to  have  done,  Sir,  I  thought  I'de  mSe  a  dLh  a^ 


l*ir 


aisB<isJHiBiitl 


118 


STITCHING     A    B  U  TTON- HOLE. 


the  rascal,  and  make  prize  of  that  are  hanimal.  So  I  drew  mv 
sword,  raised  myself  in  my  saddle,  (for  I  was  considered  a  first- 
rate  swordsman  as  most  Hinglishmen  hare  who  have  been  used  to 
the  smglestick,)  and  made  sure  I  ad  him.  Instead  of  tnrnine  he 
kept  steadily  on,  and  never  as  much  as  drew  his  sabre,  so  in  place 
of  making  a  cut  hat  him,  for  I'de  scorn  to  strike  han  hunarmed 
man   my  play  was  to  cut  his  reins,  and  then  if  he  wanted  a  skrim- 

^^?  w^,7  o        '^"'''  '^"^  '^  "'^*'  *^  ^^""'y  «^  that  hare  orse. 

Well,  Sir,  he  came  on  gallantly,  I  must  say  that,  and  kept  his 
eye  hxed  steadily  on  me,  when  just  as  I  was  going  to  make  a  cut 
at  his  reins,  he  suddenly  seized  his  eavy-mounted  elmet,  and  threw 
It  siap  at  my  face,  and  I'll  be  anged  if  it  didn't  stun  me,  and 
knock  me  right  off  the  orse  flat  on  the  ground,  and  then  he  gal- 
loped  off  as  ard  as  he  could  go.  When  1  got  up,  I  took  his  elJot 
under  my  harm,  and  proceeded  on  my  route.  I  was  ashamed  to 
tell  the  story  straight,  and  1  made  the  best  tale  I  could  of  the 
scrimmnge,  and  showed  the  elmet  in  token  that  it  was  a  pretty 
rough  fight.  But  the  doctor,  when  he  dressed  the  wound,  swore 
It  never  was  made  with  a  sword,  nor  a  bullet,  nor  any  instrument 
he  knew  hon,  and  that  he  didn't  think  it  was  occasioned  by  a  fall 
for  it  was  neither  insised,  outsised,  nor  contused— but  a  confusion 
ot  all  throe.     He  questioned  me  as  close  as  a  witness. 

" '  But,'  -  ys  I,  'doctor,  there  is  no  telling  what  himplements 
Frenchmen  ave.  Ihey  don't  fight  like  us,  they  don't.  It  was  a 
riinnia  scrimmage,  or  handicap  fight.'  Yes,  Sir,  if  it  was  hanv- 
where  helse,  where  it  wouldn't  show,  it  wouldn't  be  so  bad,  but 
there  It  IS  on  the  face,  and  there  is  no  denyin'  of  it." 
_  Here  the  littK^  woman  made  her  appearance  again,  with  the  hat 
in  her  hand,  and  said  imploringly : 

"  Tom,  doee  put  your  hat  on,  that's  a  good  soul.  lie  don't  take 
no  care  of  himself.  Sir,"  she  said,  addressing  herself  to  me  "  He 
has  seen  a  deal  of  service  in  his  day,  and  las  three  bullets  iu  him 
now,  and  he  is  as  careless  of  hisself  as  i  he  didn't  mind  whether 
1  was  left  alone  in  the  oulin'  wilderness  or  not  Oh  Sir  if  vou 
heard  the  wild  beastesis  here  at  night,  it's  dreadful.'  It'L  worse 
than  the  wolves  in  the  Pyreen  in  Spain.  And  then.  Sir,  ail  I  can 
do  I  can  t  get  him  to  wear  is  at,  when  he  knows  in  is  cart  he  had  a 
stroke  of  the  sun  near  Badajoz,  which  knocked  him  ofl;-  his  orse, 
and  see  how  it  cut  his  face.  He  was  so  andsome  before  Sir  " 
_  '  Betty, '  said  the  sergeant,  "  the  Doctor  is  calling  von.  Do  go 
into  the  ouse,  and  don't  bother  the  gentleman.  Oi,,  Sir,"  said  he, 
1  have  had  to  tell  a  cap  of  lies  about  that  are  scar  on  my  face 
and  that  s  ard,  Sir,  for  a  man  who  has  a  medal  with  five  clasps: 
am  t  it  V  ^ 

Here  the  doctor  came  to  tell  me  breakfast  was  ready. 


8TITCHIN0     A     BUTTON-HOLE. 


119 


"I  was  admiring,  Doctor,"  said  I,  "this  simple  contrivance  of 
yours  for  raising  water  from  the  well.     It  is  very  ingenious." 

"  Very,"  he  said,  "  but  I  assure  you  it  is  no  invention  of  mine. 
I  have  no  turn  that  way.     It  is  very  common  in  the  country." 

I  must  describe  this  extraordinary  looidng  affair,  for  though  not 
unusual  in  America,  I  have  never  seen  it  in  England,  although  the 
happy  thought,  doubtless,  owes  its  origin  to  the  inventive  genius  of 
its  farmers. 

The  well  had  a  curb,  as  it  is  called,  a  square  wooden  box  open 
at  the  top,  to  prevent  accident  to  the  person  drawing  the  water. 
A  few  paces  from  this  was  an  upright  post  about  twelve  feet  high, 
having  a  crotch  at  the  top.  A  long  beam  lies  across  this,  one  end 
of  which  rests  on  the  ground  at  a  distance  from  the  post,  and  the 
other  projects  into  the  air  with  its  point  over  the  well.  This  beam 
is  secured  in  the  middle  of  the  crotch  of  the  upright  post  by  an 
iron  bolt,  on  which  it  moves,  as  on  an  axle.  To  the  serial  end  is 
attac.ed  a  few  links  of  a  chain,  that  hold  a  long  pole  to  which  the 
bucket  IS  fastened,  and  hangs  over  the  well.  The  beam  and  its  pen- 
d;mt  apparatus,  resembles  a  fishing-rod  and  its  line  protruding 
over  a  stream.  When  a  person  wishes  to  draw  water,  he  takes 
hold  of  the  pole,  and  as  he  pulls  it  down,  the  bucket  descends  into 
the  well,  and  the  heavy  end  of  the  beam  ris.3  into  the  air,  and 
when  the  pail  is  filled,  the  weight  of  the  butt  end  of  the  beam  in 
Its  descent  raises  the  bucket. 

"  Now,"  said  I,  •'  Doctor,  just  observe  how  beautiful  this  thing 
is  in  operation.  A  woman,  (for  they  draw  more  nor  half  the  water 
used  in  this  country,)  has  to  put  out  all  her  strength,  dragging  down 
the  pole,  with  her  hands  over  her  head,  (an  attitude  and  exercise 
greatly  recommended  by  doctors  to  women,)  in  order  to  get  the 
bucket.down  into  the  well.  If  she  is  in  too  big  a  hurry,  the  lever 
brings  It  up  with  a  jerk  that  upsets  it,  and  wets  her  all  over,  which 
is  very  refreshing  in  hot  weather,  and  if  a  child  or  a  dog  happens 
to  be  under  the  heavy  end  of  the  beam,  it  smashes  it  to  death, 
which  after  all,  aint  no  great  matter,  fur  there  are  plenty  left  to 
them  who  have  too  many,  and  don't  care  for  'em.  And  then  if  it 
aint  well  looked  after,  and  the  post  gets  rotten  at  the  bottom,  on  a 
stonny  day  it's  apt  to  fall,  and  smash  the  roof  of  the  house  in, 
which  IS  rather  lucky,  for  most  likely  it  wanted  shingling,  and  it  is 
time  It  was  done.  Well,  when  the  bucket  swings  about  in  the 
wind  if  a  gall  misses  catching  it,  it  is  apt  to  hit  her  in  the  mouth, 
which  IS  a  great  matter,  if  she  has  the  toothache,  for  it  will  extract 
corn-crack«.rs  a  plaguey  sight  quicker  than  a  dentist  could,  to  save 
his  soul." 

"  Vvell,"  ii'did  he,  '•  I  never  thought  of  that  before.     I  have  no 
turn  for  these  things,  I'll  have  it  removed,  it  is  a  most  dangerous 


120 


THE     PLURAL    OF    MOOSE, 


!      ■     » 


ill} 


! 


i 

f 

m 

thing,  and  I  wouldn't  have  an  accident  happen  to  the  serccant  and 
dear  old  Betty  for  the  world." 

I'  God  bless  your  honor  for  that,"  said  Jackson. 
^  "But  Doctor,"  said  I,  "joking  apart,  they  aro  very  picturesque, 
aint  they  ;  how  well  they  look  in  a  sketch,  eh !     Nice  feature  in 
the  foreground." 

".  ^^^aI  ^^'^  ^^'  P^^^Jnp:  nie  on  the  back,  "  there  you  have  me 
again,  blick.  Oh,  indeed  they  are,  I  can't  part  with  my  old  well 
pole,  oh  no,  not  for  the  world :  Jackson,  have  an  eye  to  it,  see  that 
It  IS  all  safe  and  strong,  and  that  no  accident  happens,  but  I  don't 
think  we  need  take  it  away.     Come,  Slick,  come  to  breakfast " 

Ihinks  I  to  myself,  as  1  proceeded  to  the  hall,  "there  arc  two 
classes  only  in  this  world.  Those  who  have  genius,  and  those  who 
have  common  sense.  They  are  lika  tailors ;  one  can  cut  a  coat 
f.nd  do  nothin'  else,  for  he  is  an  artist.  T'.e  other  can  put  the  parts 
together,  for  he  is  a  workman  only.  Now  the  Doctor  is  a  man  of 
talent  and  learning,  an  uncomnion  man,  but  he  don't  know  common 
things  at  all.  He  can  cut  out  a  garment,  but  he  can't  sliich  a  but- 
ion-hole. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE    PLURAL   OF   MOOSE. 

The  room  in  which  we  breakfasted  was  about  eighteen  feet  square, 
having  a  large  old-fashioned  fire-place  opposite  to  the  front  door' 
which  opened   directly  on  the  lawn.     The  walls  were  fancifully 
ornamented  with  moose  and  dear  horns,  fowling-pieces,  fishing-rods 
landing  nets  and  baskets,  bows  and  arrows  of  every  description' 
and  Indian  relics,  such  as  stone  hatches,  bowls,  rude  mortars,  images' 
w'ar  clubs,  wampum,  and  implements  not  unlike  broadswords  made 
of  black  birch,  the  edges  of  which  were  inlaid  with  the  teeth  of 
ammals,  or  the  shells  of  fish,  ground  sharp.     Besides  these,  were 
okulJs  of  great  size  and  in  good  preservation,  stone  pipes,  pouches, 
and  so  on,  also  some  enormous  teeth  and  bones  of  an  antediluvian 
animal,  found  in  Bras  Dor  lake  in  Cape  Breton.     It  was,  take  it 
altogether,  the  most  complete  collection  of  relics  of  this  interesting 
race,  the  Micmacs,  and   of  natur's  products  to  be  found  in  this 
province.     Some  of  the  larger  moose  horns  were  mgeniou.s]y  man- 
aged, so  as  to  form  supports  for  polished  slabs  of  Imrdwr^nH  for 
tables.      Ihe  Doctor  informed  me  that  this  department  of  his 
museum  was  under  the  sole  direction  of  the  Sergeant,  who  called 


THB     PLURAL     OP    MOOSE. 


m 


u  nis  armory  and  to  whose  experience  in  the  arrangement  of  arms 
he  was  mdebted  for  the  good  effect  they  produced.  The  only  oT 
ject.on  he  said  he  had  to  it,  was,  that  classification  had  been  «acrt 
t^fnr^U  ^.eP^^'-^"^'  a"d  things  were  very  much  intermixed;  but 
tar.ce  ''''''  ^"^  """"^^  *^''  *  "'''"^'  °^  *"^  '"^Por- 

Jackson  as  soon  ps  the  I  .or  was  similarly  engaged  in 
shownig  them  to  the  Captain  and  the  Miss  McDonalds,  fbrxvhom 
they  seemed  to  have  a  peculiar  interest,  mounted  guard  over  me 

You  see.  Sir,"  sa.d  he,  "the  moose  horns  are  the  only  thing 
of  any  s,ze  here  and  that's  because  the  moose  is  halt  Enrrli/h    vou 
know      Everything  is  small  in  this  country,  and  degenerates',  Sir. 
Ihe  fox  am  t  near  as  b.g  as  an  English  one.     Lord,  Sir,  the  oundi 
would  run  down  one  o'  these  fellows  in  ten  minutes!     They  haven't 
got  no  strength      The  r.bbit,  too,  is  a  mere  nothink;  he  is  n, ore 
ot  a  cat,  and  looks  like  one  too,  when  he  is  hanged  in  a  snare.     It's 
so  cold  nothuj  comes  to  a  right  size  here.     Tho  trees  is  mere  shrub- 
bery compared  to  our  hoaxes.     The  pine  is  tall,  but  then  it  has  no 
S;.f      TV,  Vf  ^"'^^^^"••Pentine,  and  that  keeps  the  frost  out  of  its 
heait.     Ihe  fish  that  live  under  tho  ice  in  the  winter  are  all  ilev  in 
a  general  way    hke  the  whales,  porpoises,  dog-fish,  and  cod.     The 
hver  of  the  cod  is  all  ile,  and  women  take  to  drinkin  it  now  in  cold 
sveather,  to  keep  their  blood  warm.     Depen.  upon  it,  Sir,   in  two 
-.r  three  generations,  they  will  shine  in  the  sun  like  niggers.    Portei 
.Tould  be  better  for  'em  to  drink  than  ile,  and  far  more  pleasante 
too.  Sir,  wouldn't  it  ?    It  would  fill  'em  out.    Saving  your  presenc^ 
Sir,  you  never  see  a  girl  here  with—" 
"  Hush  !  the  ladies  will  hear  you,"  I  said. 
"I  ax  your  honor's  pardon ;  perhaps  I  am  making  too  bold,  but 
ts  nateral  for  a  man  that  has  seed  so  much  of  the  worlr^  as  I  have 
:!    i  .?  .i^'  ^'P^^^^"y  ^f  ^y  tongue  is  absent  on  furlough  more 
nor  half  the  year   and  then  the  old  'ooman's  goes  on  dSty,  and 
never  fear,  Sir,  her'n  don't  sleep  ut  its  post.     She  has  seen  too  much 
sarvice  for  that.     It  don't  indeed.     It  hails  every  one  that  passes 
the  sentry-box,  and  makes  'em  advance  and  give  the  countersign 
A  man  that  has  seed  so  much,  Sir,  in  course  has  a  good  deal  to  talk 
about.     Now,  Sir,  I  don't  want  to  undervaly  the  orns  at  no  rate 
but  Lord  bless  you.  Sir,  I  have  seen  the  orns  of  a  wild  sheep,  when 
i  was  m  the  Medeteranion,  so  large,  I  could  hardly  lift  them  with 
one  ^uind.     They  say  young  foxes  sleep  in  them  sometimes.     Oh 
bir,  if  they  would  only  get  a  few  of  them,  and  let  them  loose  here' 
uiere  would  be  some  fun  in  unting  of  them.    They  are  covered  ove^ 
mtn  air  m  summer,  and  they  are  so  wjld  you  can't  take  them  m 
orner  way  than  by  shooting  of  them.     Then.  Sir,  there  is  the  orns 

"  But  how  is  the  moose  half  English  ? "  sais  I. 
6 


12S 


THE     PLUBAL     OF    M008B, 


Whv,  Sir,  I  heard  our  cohr-s< 


rgeant  M'Clure  sny  m  wlicjn  we 


ir 


:*■  *■ 


was  in  Halifax.  IIo  was  n  great  reader  and  a  groat  argiier,  Sir,  ai 
most  Scotchmen  are  I  used  to  my  to  him,  *  M'Clure,  it's  a  won- 
der you  can  fight  as  well  as  y-^vi  do,  for  i'^  England  fellows  who 
dispute  all  the  time,  commonly  take  it  all  out  in  words.' 

♦'  O.^e  day,  Sir,  a  man  passed  the  north  barrack  gate,  f umpintr 
(as  he  said,  which  m-ans  in  English,  Sir,  Imuling,)  an  immense  bull 
moose  on  a  sled,  though  why  he  di  .n't  say  so,  1  don't  knr.w,  unless 
he  wanted  to  show  he  knew  what  M'Clure  calls  the  botanical  word 
for  it.     It  was  the  largest  lianimal  I  ever  saw  here. 

"  Says  Mac  to  him.     '  What  do  you  call  that  creatn  re  ? ' 

"  '  Moose,'  said  he. 

"  '  Do  jou  pretend  to  tell  me/  said  Mac,  'that  trut  benormous 
haniiual,  with  orns  like  a  deer,  is  a  moose? ' 

"  '  1  don't  pretend  at  all,'  said  ho ;  '  I  think  I  bouaht  to  know  one 
when  I  see  it,  for  I  have  killed  the  matter  of  a  undred  of  the:n  in 
my  day.' 

"  '  It's  a  daumed  Le,"  said  the  Sergeant.  '  It's  no  such  thing;  i 
wouldn't  believe  it  if  yon  wai-  to  swear  to  it.' 

"'Tell  y 01  what,'  said  the  man,  'don't  go  for  to  tell  me  thai 
again,  or  I'l'  ]ay  you  as  flat  as  he  la  in  no  time,'  and  he  cracked  hi» 
whip  and  movec^  on. 

'"  What's  the  use,'  said  I,  'M'Clure,  to  call  that  man  a  liar? 
How  do  you  kno^v  whether  it  is  a  moose  or  not,  and  ho  is  more 
like  to  get  its  name  right  than  you,  who  never  saw  one  af  )rc.' 

"  '  Moose,'  said  he,  'do  you  take  me  for  a  fool?  do  you  suppose 
he  IS  a  goin  to  cram  me  with  such  stuff  as  that  ?  The  idea  of  his 
pretending  to  tell  me  that  a  creature  six  feet  high  with  great 
spreading  antlers  like  a  deer  is  a  moose,  when  in  flict  they  are  no 
bigger  than  a  cock-roach,  and  can  run  into  holes  the  size  of  a  six- 
pence  !  Look  at  me — do  yoii  see  anything  very  green  about  me  ? '" 
Why,  Mac,"  sais  I,  "  as  sure  as  the  world  you  mean  a  i  -ouc^e.* 

"  '  Well,  I  said  a  moose,'  he  replied. 

Yes,  1  know  you  said  a  moose,  but  that's  not  the  wny  to  pro- 
nounce a  mouse.  It  may  be  Sooteti,  but  it  ain't  English.  Do  you 
go  nito  that  hardware  shop,  and  nc,';  [%.  a  moosclnip,  and  see  how 
the  boys  will  wink  to  each  oUiei ,  and  jaugh  at  y -a.' 

'"A  man,'  sais  he,  drawing  himself  up,  '  who  has  learned  huma- 
Txity  at  Glaskee,  don't  require  to  be  taught  how  to  pronounce 
moose. 

"  '  As  for  your  humanity,'  said  .,  '  I  never  see  much  o^  that.  If 
you  ever  had  that  weakness,  ycu  got  bravely  over  it,  and  the  glass 
key  must  have  been  broken  years  agone  in  Spain.' 

'j  '  You  are  getting  impertinent,'  said  he.  and  he  walked  off  nnd 
icfc  me. 

"  It's  very  strange,  your  honor,  but  I  never  saw  an  Irishman  or 


THE     PLUEAL    CT    M008B. 


128 


m  a  I'-Quc-e.' 


Icofl  off  unci 


[rishman  or 


"  But  the  Yankees  ?  "  said  I. 

.  "  A  few  days  after  that,  Sir,  we  walked  down  to  the  mark^^f 
pmce  and  there  was  anrther  of  these  hanimals  for  sL  BToer 
haps  I  am  making  too  bold,  Sir  ? "  P 

»  fw  '!m  """.^^J,^"  5  g"  ^»-     J  like  to  hear  you." 
thltr        '    "^  M'Clure  to  the  countryman,^  What  ao  yov  call 
"  *  A  moose,'  said  he. 

What  does  moose  mean,  my  man  V 
J!.^r\'^  ^'^"  .^'^'^''^  ''^'  ^'^'  ^«  ^i^'^'t  iiko  that  word  '  mv  man ' 
C  atct'  t^'loo!  'r  '  "^'"'''  f:;^  ■  '''■'  '^'  -  bigr.or"J:trre, 
p'nLs.'  """  "^^"  '°^^^"'''  ^"^  *^«11    «"^  '^Wrteen 

"'Mean,'  said  ho,  'it  means   ^Aa^,'  a-pointiu'  to   the  carcass 
'JJo  you  want  to  buy  it?'  carcass. 

;; '  Hem  !'  said  Mac      '  Well  now,  my  gooa  fellow-' 
words  V  wol^r^        ""  '''V^'  '^T'y'''^''  ^^^^"  l^«  heard  them 
vey  scorntui,  as   if  he  was  takmg  his  measure  and  weight  for 

he  nrhi  i""  r-V^'  '"^'^  ^y  ^'''  '^P'  «"d  ^-i«  trowser.  and' then 
he  put  his  hand  m  his  waistcoat  pocket,  and  took  out  a  lar^  b kck 
hg  of  course  tobacco,  and  bit  a  piece  oJt  of  it,  as  if  it  v  as  ?n\nnfe 
and^jen  to  a  chewing  of  it,  as  if  t.;  vent  his  wrath  o^  i^burilTd 

'' '  Well,  inv  good  fellow,'  said  xMac,  '  when  there  are  more  than 

^"''' Mit7s:[d^  ^ftirr  """^^^^'  ^'^'  '^  ^-  -^^  ^^-^' 
stH,;  ^t;;r^s;^i,;L^-^ '--'  ^^^^  ^'^^  ^  ^^^  -^  ^dd 

mouSVefol^  andZ',1V'  "''^'  '^  ^' '  ^^^'"^^  ^^^"  ^^'^^^^  ^ith 
luuuso  oeroiG,  and  tound  he  was  wTon?  •  so  he  thr„^frU^  ;<- 

"'"'.  W  \?'  "¥f  '°  ^^^  ^'^^^  wor^after  an!  *'"°''  ^^  "^^  ^^^ 

«  '  ml'  '"•     I'  '  '''^^•^  ^''t^^''  ^^"  ^h«  ^e^^ale  moose  1' 
in...„.  ^i\:!"'!.  _'.^.^,  "^f"'  'J  g"ess,'   a.talkin'  through  his  nose 

other  N'L\hersel:y  fe"'"  "^  ^^'^  ^'^  ^^'"^^^^^  ^'  ^\^"- 


124 


THE     PLUEAL     OF    MOOSE. 


"  *  Who  gave  them  thcat  name  ? '  said  M'Clure. 

"  *  Why,  I  reckon.'  said  the  other,  '  their  godfathers  and  god. 
mothers  at  their  baptism  ;  but  I  can't  say,  for  I  wara't  there.' 

"  '  1  say,  my  man,'  said  M'Clure,  '  you  had  better  keep  a  civil 
tonrjue  in  your  head.' 

-  Ask  me  no  questions,  then,'  said  the  countryman,  'and  I'll  tell 
you  no  lies ;  but  if  you  think  to  run  a  rig  on  me,  you  have  made 
a  mistake  in  the  child,  and  barked  up  the  wrong  tree,  that's  all. 
P'raps  I  aint  so  old  as  you  be,  but  I  warn't  born  yesterday.  So 
slope,  if  you  please,  for  I  want  to  sneeze,  and  if  I  do  it,  it  will 
blow  your  cap  over  the  market-house,  and  you'll  be  lucky  if  yo.ur 
head  don't  go  along  with  it.' 

Cme  away,'  said  ],  Mac,  '  that  fellow  has  no  more  manners 
than  a  heathen.' 

"  '  He's  an  hignorant  beast,'  said  he  ;  'he  is  beneath  notice.' 

"The  man  eard  that,  and  called  afttr  him  ;  *  Hofficer,  hofficer' 
said  he.  ' 

"  That  made  M'Clure  stop,  for  he  was  expectin'  to  be  one  every 
day,  and  the  word  sounded  good,  and  Scotchmen,  Sir,  aint  like 
other  people ;  pride  is  as  natural  as  oatmeal  to  them.  The  man 
came  up  to  us  iimpin. 

"  '  Hofficer,'  said  he,  '  I  ax  your  pardon  if  I  offended  you  ;  I 
thought  you  was  a  pokin  fun  at  me,  for  I  am  nothing  but  a  poor 
hignorant  farmer  from  the  country,  and  these  townspeople  are 
always  making  game  of  tis.  I'll  tell  you  all  about  that  are  moose 
and  how  1  killed  him.  He  urt  my  feelins.  Sir,  or  I  never  would 
have  mislested  him ;  for  Zack  Wilcox  is  as  good-natured  a  chap, 
it's  generally  -.ilowed,  as  ever  lived.  Yes,  he  trod  on  my  toes,  I 
don't  feel  right  yet ;  and  wher  any  fellow  does  that  to  me,  why 
tliere  aint  no  mistake  about  it,  his  time  is  out  and  the  sentence  is 
come  to  pass.  Pie  begged  for  his  life ;  oh,  it  was  piteous  to  see 
him.  I  don't  mean  to  say  the  dumb  beast  spoke,  but  his  looks 
were  so  beseeching  just  the  way  if  you  was  tied  up  to  the  halbert 
to  be  whipped,  you'd  look  at  the  general.' 

"'Me?'  said  M'Clure. 

"'Yes,  you  or  an}  body  else,,'  said  the  man.  'Well,'  said  he, 
*  I  told  him  I  wouldn't  shoot  him,  I'de  give  him  one  chance  for  his 
life ;  but  if  he  escaped  he'd  be  deaf  for  ever  afterw^Ms.  Poor 
feller,  I  didn't  intend  to  come  it  quite  so  strong ;  but  he  couldn't 
stand  the  shock  I  gave  him,  and  it  killed  him — frightened  liim  to 
death,' 

"' Howl' said  M'-Clure. 

'"  Why,^  sais  he,^  'I'll  tell  you,'  and  he  looked  cautiously  all 
round,  as  if  he  didn't  want  any  one  to  know  the  secret.  '  I  gave 
him  a  most  an  almighl,-^  hambler  that  fairly  keeled  him  over.' 


U  ( 


What?' said  M'Clure. 


THE     PLURAL     OF     MOOSE. 


126 


»re  manners 


" '  >V'hy,'  saib  he,  '  I  gave  bim,'  and  he  bent  forward  towards  hi8 
tur  aij  if  to  whis,per  the  woid,  '1  gave  him  a  most  thunderin'  ever 
lastin'  loud—'  aiid  he  gave  a  yell  into  his  hear  that  was  eard  clean 
across  the  harbor,  and  at  the  ospital  beyond  the  dock-yard,  and 
t  other  way  as  fur  as  Presh- water  Biidge.  Nothin'  was  hover  eard 
like  it  before. 

"  M'Clur©  sprang  backwards  the  matter  of  four  or  five  feet,  and 
placed  his  hand  on  his  side-arms,  while  the  countryman  brayed  out 
a  horse-laugh  that  nearly  took  away  one's  earing.  The  truck-men 
gave  him  a  cheer,  for  they  are  all  Irishmen,  and  they  don't  like  sol 
diers  commonly  on  recount  of  their  making  them  keep  the  peace 
at  ome  at  their  meetin'  of  monsters,  and  there  was  a  general  com- 
motion  in  the  market.  We  beat  a  retreat,  and  when  we  got  out 
of  the  crowd,  sais  I,  '  M'Clure,  that  comes  of  arguing  with  every 
one  you  meet.     It's  a  bad  habit.' 

" '  I  wasn't  arguing,'  sais  he,  quite  short ;  '  I  was  only  asking 
questions,  and  how  can  you  ever  learn  if  you  don't  inquire?' 

"  Well,  when  he  got  to  the  barrack,  he  got  a  book  wrote  by  a 
Frenchman,  called  Buffoon." 

"  A  capital  name,"  sais  I,  «  for  a  Frenchman ;"  but  he  didn't 
take,  for  there  is  no  more  fun  in  an  Englishman,  than  a  dough 
pudding,  and  went  on  without  stopping. 

"  Sais  he,  '  this  author  is  all  wrong.  He  calls  it  han  '  horiginal ' 
but  he  aint  a  native  animal ;  it's  half  English  and  half  Yankee. 
Some  British  cattle  at  a  remote  period  have  been  wrecked  here' 
strayed  into  the  woods,  and  erded  with  the  Carriboo.  It  has  the 
ugly  carcass  and  ide  of  the  ox,  and  has  taken  the  orns,  short  tail, 
and  Its  speed  from  ihe  deer.  That  accounts  for  its  being  larger 
than  the  native  stags.'  I  think  he  was  right.  Sir :  what  is  vour 
opinion?"  "^ 

The  doctor  and  the  rest  of  the  party  coming  up  just  then  put 
an  end  to  Jackson's  dissertation  on  the  origin  of  the  moose.  The 
former  said : 

"  Come,  Mr.  Slick,  suppose  we  try  the  experiment  of  the  bow," 
and  Jessie,  seeing  us  prepared  for  shooting,  asked  the  Doctor  for 
smaller  ones  for  her  sister  and  herself.  The  targets  were  accord- 
ing'-  prepared,  and  placing  myself  near  one  of  them,  1  discharged 
the  gun  and  removed  a  few  paces  on  one  side,  and  commenced  as 
rapidly  as  I  could  to  reload,  but  the  Doctor  had  sent  three  arrows 
through  mine  before  I  had  finished.  It  required  almost  as  little 
time  as  a  revclvrr.  He  repeated  the  trial  again  with  the  same 
result. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  the  bow  now  ? "  said  he  in  triumph. 
"  Come,  Captain,  do  you  and  Mr.  Slick  try  your  luck,  and  see 
what  sort  of  shots  you  can  make."  The* Captain,  who  was  an 
experienced  hand  with  a  gun,  after  a  few  attempts  to  ascertain  the 


126 


THE    PLURAL    OF    MOOSE. 


!  I 


llll    » 


H 


m  * 


power  and  practice  necessary,  made  capital  play  with  the  b- 
and  his  muscular  arm  rendered  easy  to  him  that  which  required  ■ 
me  the  utmost  exertion  of  my  strength.  Jessie  and  her  sistei 
now  stept  forward,  and  measuring  off  a  shorter  distance,  took  their 
sta  ions.  Iheir  shooting,  ii  which  they  were  quite  at  home,  was 
truly  wondertul.  Instead  of  using  the  bow  as  we  did,  so  as  to 
bring  the  arrow  ma  line  with  the  eye,  they  held  it  lower  down,  in 
a  way  to  return  the  elbow  to  the  right  side,  mucn  in  the  same 
manner  that  a  skilful  sportsman  shoots  from  the  hip.  It  seemed 
to  be  ^10  sort  of  exertion  whatever  to  them,  and  every  arrow  was 
lodged  m  the  mner  circle.  It  seemed  to  awaken  them  to  a  new 
existence,  and  m  their  excitement  I  observed  thoy  used  their 
mother  tongue.  -  *^ 

"Bog  ) our  pardon,  Sir,"  said  Jackson  to  the  Doctor,  putting  his 
hand  to  h.s  forehead,  "  if  our  sharp-shooters  in  Spain  ad  ad  bows 
like  yours  in  their  skrimages  with  the  French  light  troops,  they 
would  ave  done  more  service  and  made  less  noise  about  it  tlian  they 

u  ,.^"^,«'^'"tingmeinthe  same  manner,  he  said  in  an  under  tone 
Hlad  ad  one  of  them  at  Badajoz,  Sir,  1  think  I'd  a  put  a  pen 
m  thut  troopers  mouth,  to  write  the  account  of  the  -..ay  he  lost 
his  elmet.  A  shower  of  them,  Sir,  among  a  troop  of  cavalry, 
would  have  sent  riders  flying,  and  horses  kicking,  as  bad  as  a 
shower  of  grape.     There  is  no  danger  of  shooting  your  lingers  off 

there  SiH '?''"'  '''"     ''"^  '''^''^  ^''"''  ^^'^'''^'     ^^'  ^^^"^  ^"^'t'  ^^ 

"  Tom,  do'ee  put  on  your  hat  now,  that's  a  good  soul,"  said  his 

attentive  wife,  who  had  followed  him  out  a  third  time,  to  remind 

«     hf        -i'"^^"'    y^^  ^'<  ''^''^  ^1^^'   «g«^n  addressing  me, 
what  signifies  a  armless  thing,  like  an  harrow;  that's  notlifn  but 
a  lit  le  wooden  rod,  to  the  stroke  of  the  sun,  as  they  calls  it.     See 
what  a  dreadful  cu'  it's  given  him." 

Toni  looked  very  impatient  at  this,  but  curbed  in  bis  vexation, 
and  said  "thankee,  Betty,"  though  his  face  expressed  anything  bu 
thanks.  "Thankee,  Betty.  There,  the  Doctor  is  caJling^ou. 
bhe  is  as  good  a  creaia-e.  Sir,  as  ever  lived,"  he  continued  ;  "  and 
has  seen  a  deal  of  service  in  her  day.  But  she  bothers  me  to 
death  about  that  stroke  of  the  sun.  Sometimes  I  think  I'll  tell 
her  all  ab  -^  it ;  but  1  don't  like  to  demean  myself  to  her.  She 
wouldn  t  thiuK  nothin  of  me,  Sir,  if  she  thought  I  could  have  been 
floored  that  way ;  and  women,  when  they  bngin  to  crv,  throw  up 
sometime  what's  disagreeable.  They  aint  safe.  She  would, 
perhaps,  have  heaved  up  in  my  flice,  that  that  dragoon  had  slapped 

mv  cnoDs  tor  mo.  witli  hia  olmnf      t  «.«  i,i 1   o?..   -p  j        '/  . 

„  -,       -  ,.  ""'  ■     ;- ^"i'-i.     i  Clin  uiuv.uu,  >Du-,  il  i  can  laKQ 

a  glass  of  grog  out  of  my  canteen,  but  she  says,  Tom,  mind  that 
stroke  of  the  sun.     And  when  I  ave  a  big  D  marked  agin  my  namo 


THE    PLURAL    OF    MOOSE 


127 


In  the  pension  book,  she'll  swear,  to  her  dying  day,  I  was  killed  by 
that  are  stroke." 

"  Why  don't  you  put  it  on  then,"  I  said,  "just  to  please  her." 

"Well,  Sir,  if  1  was  at  head-quarters,  or  even  at  han  houtpost, 
where  there  was  a  detachment,  1  would  put  it  hon ;  because  it 
wouldn't  seem  decent  to  go  bare-headed.  But  Lord  bless  you,  Sir, 
whaCts  the  use  of  lia.  at  in  tlie  woods,  where  there  is  no  one  to  see 
you  ?  " 

Poor  fellow,  he  din't  know  what  a  touch  of  human  natur  there 
was  in  that  expression,  "  what's  the  use  of  a  hat  in  the  woods,  when 
(here  is  no  one  to  see  you  ?  " 

The  same  idea,  though  differently  expressed,  occurs  to  so  many. 
"Yes,"  said  I  to  myself,  "put  on  your  hat  for  your  wife's  sake, 
and  your  own  too  ;  for  thouj^h  you  may  fail  to  get  a  stroke  of  the 
sun,  you  may  get,  not  an  inflammation  of  the  brain,  for  there  ain't 
enough  of  it  for  that  complaint  to  feed  on,  but  rheumatism  in  the 
head  ;  and  that  will  cause  you  a  plaguey  sight  more  pain  that 
the  dragoon's  helmet  ever  did,  by  a  long  chalk." 

But,  to  get  back  to  my  story,  for  the  way  I  travel  through  a 
tale,  is  like  the  way  a  child  goes  to  school.  He  leaves  the  path  to 
chase  a  butterfly,  or  to  pick  wild  ^strawberries,  or  to  run  after  his 
hat,  that  has  blown  oflT,  or  to  take  a  shy  at  a  bird,  or  throw  off*  hia 
shoes,  roll  up  his  trousers,  and  wade  about  the  edge  of  a  pond,  to 
catch  polly-wogs ;  but  he  gets  to  school  in  the  eend,  though  some- 
what of  the  latest,  so  1  have  got  back  at  last  you  see. 

Mother  used  to  say,  "Sam,  your  head  is  always  a  wool- 
gathering." 

"  1  am  glad  of  it,"  says  1,  "marm." 

"  Why,  Sam,"  she'd  say,  "  why,  what  on  earth  do  you  mean." 

"  Because,  marm,"  I'd  reply,  "  a  head  that's  always  a  gatherin, 
will  get  well  stored  at  last." 

"  Do  get  out,"  the  dear  old  soul  would  say,  "  I  do  believe,  in 
my  heart,  you  are  the  most  nimpent  (impudent),  idlest,  good  for 
nothingest  boy  in  the  world.     Do  get  along." 

But  she  was  pleased,  though,  after  all ;  for  women  do  like  to 
repeat  little  things  like  them,  that  their  children  say,  and  ask  other 
people,  who  don't  hear  a  word,  or  if  they  do,  only  go  right  off"  and 
laugh  at  'em  :  Ain't  that  proper  cute  now  ?  Make  a  considerable 
smart  man  when  he  is  out  of  his  time,  and  finished  his  broughtens 
up,  won't  he  ? 

Well,  arterthe  archery  meeting  was  ovei',  and  the  congregation 
disparsed,  who  should  I  find  myself  a  walkin  down  to  the  lake  with 

her,  nor  she  for  me;  but  so  it  was.  1  suppose  it  is  human  natur, 
and  that  is  the  only  way  I  can  account  for  it.  Where  there  is  a 
flower,  there  is  the  bee;  where  the  grass  is  sweet,  there  is  th« 


128 


THE     PLURAL     OF     MOOSE. 


f 
til 


IR''.- 


sheep ;  where  the  cherry  is  ripe,  there  is  the  bird  ;  and  where  there 
IS  a  gall,  .specially  if  she  is  pretty,  there,  it  is  likely,  I  am  to  be 
found  also.     Yes,  it  must  be  natur.     Well,  we  walked,  or  rather 
strolled  ofF  easy.     There  are  different  kinds  of  gaits,  and  they  are 
curious  to  observe ;  for  I  consait,  sometimes,  I' can  read  a  man's 
character  in  his  walk.     The  child  trots;  the  boy  scarcely  touches 
the  ground  with  his  feet,  and  how  the  plague  he  wears  his  shoes 
out  so  fast,  I  don't  know.     Perhaps  Dr.  Lardiier  can  tell,  but  I'll 
be  hanged  if  1  can,  for  the  little  critter  is  so  light,  he  don't  even 
squash  the  grass.     The  sailor  waddles  like  a  duck,  and  gives  his 
trousers  a  jerk,  to  keep  them  from  going  down  the  masts  (his  legs) 
by  the  run  ;  a  sort  of  pull  at  the  main-brace.     The  soldier  steps 
solemn  and  formal,  as  if  the  dead  march  in  Saul  was  a  playin.     A 
man  and  his  wife  walk  on  different  sides  of  the  street;  he  sneaks 
along  head  down,    and  nhe  struts  head  up,  as  if  she  never  heard  the 
old  proverb,  '  woe  to  the  house  where  the  hen  crows.'     They  leave 
the  carriage-way  between  them,  as  if  they  were  afraid  their  thoughts 
could  be  heard.     When  meetin  is  out,  a  lover  lags  behind,  as  if  he 
had  nothin  above  particular  to  do,  but  to  go  home ;  and  he  is  in  no 
hurry  to  do  that,  for  dinner  won't  be  ready  this  hour.     But,  as  soon 
as  fljlks  are  dodged  by  a  blue  bonnet  with  pink  ribbons  ahead  he 
pulls  foot  like  a  h^mp-lighter,  and  is  up  with  the  gall  that  wears  it 
m  no  time,  and  she  whips  her  arm  in  hisn,  and  they  saunter  off  to 
make  the  way  as  long  as  possible.     She  don't  say  "  PecowerM  ser 
mon  that,  warn't  it  ?"    nd  he  don't  reply,  "  I  heerd  nothin  but  the 
text,  '  love  one  anothei     "     Nor  does  he  squeeze  her  arm  with  his 
elbow,  nor  she  pinch  hi   with  her  little  blue-gloved  fingers.     \Vatca 
them  after  that,  for  they  go  so  slow,  they  almost  crawl,  they  have 
so  much  to  say,  and  they  want  to  make  the  best  of  their  time  :   and 
besides,  walking  fast  would  put  them  out  of  breath. 

The  articled-clerk  walks  the  streets  with  an  air  as  much  like  a 
military  man  as  he  can  ;  and  it  resembles  it  almost  as  much  as 
electrotype  ware  does  silver.  He  tries  to  look  at  ease,  thoucrh  it  is 
a  great  deal  of  trouble  ;  but  he  imitatps  him  to  a  hair  in'' some 
things,  for  he  stares  impudent  at  the  galls,  has  a  cigar  in  his  mouth 
dresses  snobbishly,  and  talks  of  making  a  book  at  Ascot.  The 
young  lawyer  struts  along  in  his  seven-league  boots,  has  a* white- 
bound  book  in  one  hand,  and  a  parcel  of  papers,  tied  with  red  tape, 
in  the  other.  He  is  in  a  desperate  hurry,  and  as  sure  as  the  world' 
somebody  is  a  dying,  and  has  sent  for  him  to  make  his  will.  The 
Irish  priest  walks  like  -^  warder  who  has  the  keys.  There  is  an  air 
of  authority  about  him.     He  puts  his  down  on  the  pavement 

hard,  as  much  as  to  say,  do  you  hear  that,  you  spalpeen  ?  He  has 
Ine  secrets  of  all  the  parish  in  his  keeping ;  but  they  are  other 
folk's  secrets,  and  not  his  own,  avid  of  course,  so  much  liohter  to 
carry,  it  don't  prevent  him  looking  like  a  jolly  fellow,  as  he°is  arter 


THE    PLUEAL    OP    MOOSE. 


129 


all.  The  high-churchman  has  au  M.  B.  waistcoat  on,  is  particular 
about  his  dress,  and  walks  easy,  like  a  gentleman,  looks  a  little  pale 
about  the  gills,  like  a  student ;  but  has  the  air  of  a  man  that  wanted 
you  to  understand,  I  am  about  my  work,  and  I  would  have  you 
to  know  ^  "m  the  boy  to  do  it,  and  do  it,  too,  without  a  fuss.  If 
he  meet  -  •  shop,  he  takes  his  hat  off,  for  he  admits  his  authority. 
If  a  be^^'a,:  u  costs  him,  he  slips  some  charity  in  his  hands,  and 
looks  scared,  lest  he  should  be  seen. 

The  low-churchman  hates  the  M.  B.  vestment,  it  was  him  who 
christened  it.  He  is  a  dab  at  nick  names.  He  meant  it  to  signify 
the  Mark  of  the  Beast.  He  likes  the  broad-brimmed  beaver,  it's 
more  like  a  quaker,  and  less  like  a  pope.  It  is  primitive.  He 
looks  better  fed  than  the  other,  and  in  better  care.  Preachin  he 
finds,  in  a  general  way,  easier  than  practice.  Watch  his  face  as  he 
goes  along,  slowly  and  solemncoly  th^'ough  the  street.  He  looks 
so  good,  all  the  women  that  see  him  say,  "  Aint  he  a  dear  man  ?" 
He  is  meekness  itself.  Butter  wouldn't  melt  in  his  mouth.  He 
has  no  pride  in  him.  If  there  is  any,  it  aint  in  his  heart  at  any 
rate.  Perhaps  there  is  a  little  grain  in  his  legs,  but  it  never  got 
any  higher.  Sometimes,  I  suspect,  they  have  been  touched  with 
the  frost,  for  the  air  of  a  dining-room  is  colder  under  the  table  than 
above  it,  and  his  legs  do  march  stiff  and  formal  like  a  soldier's,  but 
then,  as  he  says,  he  is  of  the  church  militant.  See  what  a  curious 
expression  of  countenance  he  has  when  he  meets  his  bishop.  Read 
it,  it  says  :  "  Now,  my  old  Don,  let  us  understand  each  other  ;  you 
may  ordain  and  confirm,  but  don't  you  go  one  inch  beyond  that. 
No  synods,  no  regeneration  in  baptism,  no  control  for  me  ;  I  won't 
stand  it.  My  idea  is,  every  clergyman  is  a  bishop  in  his  owii  par- 
ish, and  his  synod  is  composed  of  pious  galls  that  tvork,  and  rich 
spinsters  that  ffive.  If  you  do  interfere,  1  will  do  my  duty  and  re- 
buke those  in  high  places.  Don't  rile  me,  for  I  have  an  ugly  pen, 
an  ugly  tongue,  and  an  ugly  temper,  and  nothing  but  my  sanctity 
enables  me  to  keep  them  under."  If  he  is  accosted  by  a  beggar, 
he  don't,  like  the  other,  give  him  money  to  squander,  but  he  gives 
him  instruction.  He  presents  him  with  a  tract.  As  he  passes  on, 
the  poor  wretch  pauses  and  looks  after  him,  and  mutters,  "Is  it  a 
prayer  ?  most  likely,  for  that  tract  must  be  worth  something,  for  it 
cost  something  to  print." 

Then  there  is  the  sectarian  lay-brother  He  has  a  pious  walk, 
looks  well  to  his  ways  lest  he  should  stumble,  and  casting  his  eyes 
down,  kills  two  birds  with  one  stone.  He  is  in  deep  meditation 
about  a  contract  for  a  load  of  deal,  and  at  the  same  time  regards 
his  steps,  for  the  ways  of  the  world  are  slippery.  His  digestion  is 
not  good,  and  he  eats  pickles,  for  the  vinegar  shews  in  his  face. 
Like  Jehu  Judd,  he  hates  "  fiddling  and  dancing,  and  serving  the 
6* 


i 


130 


|i      f 


THE     PLURAL     OF    MOOSE. 


devil,"  and  iL  .s  lucky  he  has  a  downcast  look,  for  here  come  two 
girJs  that  would  shock  him  into  an  ague. 

Both  of  them  have  the  colonial  stip  and  air ;  both  of  them,  too 
are  beautiful,  as  Nova  Scotia  girls  generally  are.      The  first  is 
young    nd  delicate,  and  as  blooming  as  a  little  blush-rose.     She 
holds  out  wjth  each  hand  a  portion  of  her  silk  dress,  as  if  she  was 
walkmg  a  minuet,  and  it  discloses  a  snow  white  petticoat,  and  such 
a  dear  little  foot  and  ankle-lie?: !     Her  step  is  short  and  mincing 
She  has  a  new  bonnet  on,  just  imported  by  the  last  English  steamer 
It  has  a  horrid  name,  it  is  called  a  kiss-me-quick.     It  is  so  lar  back 
on  her  head,  she  is  afraid  people  will  think  she  is  harcfaced,  so  she 
casts  her  eyes  down,  as  much  as  to  say,  »  Don't  look  at  me,  please 
1  ani  so  pretty  I  am  afraid  you  will  stare,  and  if  you  do  I  shall 
laint,  as  sure  as  the  world,  and  if  you  want  to  look  at  my  bonnet 
do  pray  go  behind  me,  for  what  there  1  •  of  it,  is  all  there.     It's  a 
great  trial  to  me  to  walk  alone,  when  1  am  so  pretty."     So  she 
compresses  her  sweet  lips  with  such  resolution  that  her  dear  little 

"  nu"^"  !'''  '"^  ''"''^^^  ^'^"'^  ^^^"'^  ^t  couldn't  take  in  a  sugar-plum 
Uh  dear,  here  are  some  officers  approaching,  for  thongh  she  looks 
on  the  l^avement,  she  can  see  ahead  for  all  that.  What  is  to  be 
aone.  She  half  turns  aside,  half  is  enough,  to  turn  her  back  would 
De  rude,  and  she  looks  up  at  a  print  or  a  necklace,  or  somethinrj  or 
another  in  a  shop  windov/,  and  it's  a  beautiful  attitude,  and  very 
becoming,  and  if  they  will  stare,  she  is  so  intent  on  the  show  class 
she  can  t  see  them,  and  won't  faint,  and  her  little  heart  flutte?s  as 
one  of  them  says  as  he  passes,  ''  Devilish  pretty  gall,  that.  Grant, 
who  is  she  ?"  and  then  she  resumes  her  walk,  and  minces  on. 

•  1  ^u^  ""?''  ^^^  ^"^  ^^''^  ^^^  ^'^^e  «ath  that  that  little  delicate 
girJ  when  she  gets  home,  and  the  hall-door  is  shut,  will  scream  out 
at  the  tip  eend  of  ner  voice,  like  a  screeching  paraquet,  "  Eliza 
Jiuphemia,  where  m  creation  have  you  stowed  yourself  loo  ?"  and 
that  J:.liza  Euphemia  would  hear  her  away  up  in  the  third  story 
and  in  the  same  key  answer:  "  I  can't  come  down,  I  aint  fit  to  be 
seen  nary  way,  for  I'm  all  open  before,  and  onfastened  behind,  and 
my  hair  is  all  in  paper,"  I  wouldn't  believe  him;  would  you^ 

Ihe  other  young  lady,  that  follows,  is  a  little  too  much  of  Juno 
and  somewhat  too  little  of  Venus.  She  is  a  tall,  sp!  ndid-looking 
lieite-,  as  fine  a  gal  as  you  will  see  in  any  country,  and  she  takes  it 
tor  granted  you  don't  need  to  enquire  who  she  is.  She  aint  bold 
and  she  amt  diffident ;  but  she  can  stare  as  w^ell  as  you  can  and 
has  as  good  a  right  too.  Iler  look  is  scorny,  as  the  snobocracy 
pass  and  do  homage,  by  bestowing  on  her  an  admiring  look.  Her 
step  IS  firm,  but  elastic ;  it  is  a  decided  ^t^^,  but  the  tyIour  lay- 
brother  regards  her  not,  and  moves  not  out  of  his  way  for  her.  So 
she  stops  that  he  may  see  his  error,  and  when  he  does  look,  he  per- 
ceives  that  it  would  lead  him  'nto  further  error  if  he  gazed  long, 


^  - 


THE     PLURAL     OF    MOOSB. 


131 


>  come  two 

f  them,  too, 
riie  first  is 
-rose.     She 

if  she  was 
it,  and  such 
id  minciiijT. 
sh  steamer, 
so  fur  back 
iceo?,  so  she 
me,  please, 
do  I  shall 
ny  bonnet, 
ire.  It's  a 
So  she 
dear  little 
iigar-plum. 

she  looks 
fc  is  to  be 
»ack  would 
nething  or 
,  and  very 
ihow  glass, 
flutters  as 
lat.  Grant, 
5  on. 

e  delicate 
cream  out 
:t,  "Eliza 
oo?"  and 
ird  story, 
t  fit  to  be 
shind,  and 

>  ou  ? 

I  of  Juno, 
id-looking 
le  takes  it 
lint  bold, 
can,  and 
lobocracy 
ok.     Her 

her.  So 
k,  he  per- 
zed  long, 


so  he  moves  to  the  other  side  of  the  path,  but  does  it  so  slowly,  sho 
confronts  him  again.  After  a  moment's  reflection,  he  tries  to  turn 
her  flank — a  movement  that  is  unfortunately  anticipated  by  her, 
and  there  is  a  collision  on  the  track.  ,  The  concussion  dislocates  his 
hat,  and  the  red  silk  Bandannah  handkerchief,  which  acted  as  travel- 
ling-bag, and  pocket-book,  discharges  its  miscellaneous  contents  on 
the  pavement.  That's  on  lucky ;  for  he  was  a  going  to  shunt  off  on 
another  line,  and  get  away ;  but  he  has  to  stop  and  pick  up  the  frag- 
mentary freight  of  his  beaver. 

Before  he  can  do  this,  he  is  asked  by  Juno  how  he  dares  to  stop 
a  lady  in  that  indecent  manner,  in  the  street;  and  while  he  is  plead- 
ing not  guilty  to  the  indictment,  the  gentlemen  that  stared  at  the 
simpering  beauty,  comes  to  the  aid  of  the  fair  prosecutrix.  She 
knows  them,  and  they  say,  "  Capital,  by  Jove — what  a  rum  one  he 
is  1"  Rum  one ;  why  he  is  a  member  of  a  temperance  society,  walks 
in  procession  when  to  home,  with  a  white  apron  in  front,  and  the 
ends  of  a  scraf-like  sash  behind,  and  a  rosette  as  large  as  a  soup- 
plate  on  his  breast — a  rum  one  ;  what  an  infamous  accusation  ! 

The  poor  man  stands  aghast  at  this ;  he  humbly  begs  pardon, 
and  Juno  is  satisfied.  She  takes  one  of  the  beaux  by  the  arm,  and 
says  :  "  Do  priiy  see  me  home — I  am  quite  nervous ;"  and  to  prove 
it  she  laughs  as  loud  as  any  of  them.  The  joke  is  now  being  carried 
too  far,  and  the  young  sword-knots  pick  up,  amid  roars  of  laughter, 
his  handkerchief,  the  papers,  the  horn-comb,  the  fig  of  tobf'cco,  the 
fractured  pipe,  the  jack-knife,  and  the  clean  shirt  collav,  that  was 
only  worn  once,  and  toss  them  into  his  hat,  which  is  carefully 


secured  on  his  head,  so  low  as  to  cover  his  eyes,  and  so  tij-^lit 


as 


nearly  co  shave  oft'  both  his  earj.  The  lay  brother  thinks,  with 
great  truth,  that  he  would  sooner  take  five  yoke  of  oxen,  and  tail  a 
mast  for  a  frigate,  through  the  solid  forest  to  the  river,  than  snake 
his  way  through  the  streets  of  a  garrison  town.  After  re-adjusting 
his  hat,  he  resumes  his  pious  gait,  and  Juno  also  goes  her  way,  and 
exhibits  her  decided  step. 

Now,  the  step  of  Jessie  and  myself  was  unlike  any  of  these — it 
was  a  natural  and  easy  one ;  the  step  of  people  who  had  no 
reason  to  h'lrry,  and,  at  the  same  time,  were  not  in  the  habit  of 
crawling.  In  this  manner  we  proceeded  to  the  lake,  and  sought  a 
point  of  land  which  commanded  a  full  view  of  it  on  both  sides,  and 
embraced  nearly  its  whole  length.  Here  was  a  clump  of  trees 
from  which  the  underwood  had  been  wholly  cut  away,  so  as  to  forfii 
a  shade  for  the  cattle  depasturing  in  the  meadow.  As  we  entered 
the  grove,  Jessie  exclaimed : 

"  Oh !  Mr.  Slick,  do  look  I  Here  is  a  canoe — can  you  use  a 
paddle  ?" 

"  As  well  as  an  oar,"  said  I,  "  and,  perhaps  a  little  grain  better ; 
for  I  haven't  been  down  all  the  New  Brunswick  and  Nova  Scotia 


183 


THK     PLURAL     OF     MOOSE. 


•h 


in' 


rivers  in  'em  for  nothing,  let  alone  Lake  Michigan,  George,  Mada. 

waska  and  Jiossignol,  and  I  do:i't  i<nowhow  many  others.     Step  in 

an  i  let  us  have  at  them  --n  the  water."  * 

^  In  a  minute  the  canoe  was  iiunchcd  and  away  we  flew  like  light- 

mng.     Oil,  tiiere  la  nothing  like  one  of  those  light  elegant  graceful 

barks ;  %vl,at  is  a  wherry  or  a  whale-boat,  or  a  skull  or  a %i-  to 

them  ?     They  di-aw  no  more  water  than  an  egg-shell ;  they  require 

no  strength  to  paddle ;  they  go  right  up  on  the  beach,  and  you  can 

carry  them  about  i-ke  a  basket.     With  a  light  hand,  a  cool  head 

and  a  quick  eye,  you  can  make  them  go  where  a  duck  can.     What 

has  science,  and  taste,  and  handicraft  ever  made  to  improve  on  this 

simple  contrivance  of  the  savage.     When  I  was  for  two  years  in 

John  Jacob  Astor  Fur  Company's  employment,  I  knew  the  play  of 

Jessie  s  tribe.  r    j    * 

"  Can  you  catch,"  said  J,  "  Miss  ]" 

"  Can  you  V 

"  Never  fear." 

And  we  exclianged  paddles  as  she  sat  in  one  end  of  the  canoe,  and 
1  m  the  other,  by  throwing  them  diagonally  at  each  other  as  if  we 
were  passing  a  shuttle-cock.  She  almost  screamed  with  delight 
and  in  her  enthusiasm  addressed  me  in  her  native  Indian  language.' 
Gaelic,  said  1,  "  give  me  Gaelic  dear,  for  I  am  very  simple 
and  very  innocent. '  ''         ^ 

"  Oh,  very,"  she  said,  and  as  she  dropped  her  paddle  into  the 
water,  managed  to  give  me  the  benefit  of  a  spoonfull  in  the  eves. 

Alter  we  had  trieH  several  evolutions  with  the  canoe  and  had  pro- 
ceeded  homeward  a  short  distance,  we  opened  a  miniature  bay  into 
which  we  leisurely  paddled,  until  we  arrived  at  its  head,  where 
a  <?aiall  waterfall  of  about  forty  feet  in  height,  poured  its  tributary 
stream  into  the  lake.  On  the  right  hand  side  which  was  nearest  to 
the  house  was  a  narrow  strip  of  verdant  intervale,  dotted  here  and 
there  with  vast  shady  beeches  and  elms.  I  never  saw  a  more  lovely 
spot.  Hills  rose  above  each  other  beyond  the  waterfall,  like  but- 
tresses  to  support  the  conical  one  that  though  not  in  itself  a  moun- 
tain,  (for  there  is  not,  strictly  speaking,  one  in  this  province,)  yet 
loomed  as  hirge  in  the  light  mist  that  enveloped  its  lofty  peak.  As 
this  high  chfi  rose  abruptly  from  the  lake,  the  light  of  smaller  cas- 
cades  was  aisccrmble  through  the  thin  shrubbery  that  clothed  its 
rocky  side,  although  their  voice  was  drowned  in  the  roar  of  that  at 
Its  base. 

Noth'mg  was  said  by  either  of  us  for  some  time,  for  both  were 
occupied  by  different  thougnts.  I  was  charmed  with  ;ts  extraordi- 
nary  beauty,  and  wondered  how  it  was  nossiblo  thntih  ch-i''^  i--  -- 
i.ule  known  as  not  even  to  have  a  name.  My  companionron  ^the 
other  hand  was  engaged  in  sad  reflections  which  the  similarity  of 


THE     PLTJEAL     OF    MOOSE. 


188 


the  scene  with  her  early  recollections  of  her  home  in  the  far  west, 
suggested  to  her  mind. 

"  Ain't  this  beautiful,  Jessie  ?"  I  said,  "  don't  this  remind  you  of 
Canada,  or  rather  your  own  country  ?'' 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  "  me — me,"  for  during  the  whole  day  there 
had  been  a  sad  confusion  of  languages  and  idioms,  "me  very  happy 
and  very  sad  ;  1  want  to  laugh,  I  want  to  cry  ;  I  am  here  and  there,' 
pointing  to  the  north  west.  "  Laughing,  talking,  sporting  with  my 
father  and  Jane,  and  you,  and  am  also  by  the  side  of  my  deal 
mother,  far — far  beyond  those  hills.  I  see  your  people  and  my 
people ;  I  paddle  in  our  canoe,  '=!hoot  with  our  bows,  speak  our  lan- 
guage; yes,  I  am  her*^,  and  there  also.  The  sun  too  is  in  both 
places.  He  sees  us  all.  When  1  die,  perhaps  I  shall  go  back,  but 
I  am  not  of  them  or  of  you— I  am  nothing,"  and  she  burst  into 
tears  and  wept  bitterly. 

"  Jessie,"  said  I,  "  let  us  talk  about  something  else )  you  have 
been  too  much  excited  this  niDrning,  let  us  enjoy  what  God  gives 
us  and  not  be  ungrateful ;  let  your  sister  come  also,  and  try  the 
canoe  once  more.     This  is  better  than  a  hot  room,  ain't  it? " 
'  Oh,  yes,"  she  replied,  "  this  is  life.     This  is  freedom." 

"  Suppose  we  dine  here,"  I  said. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  replied,  "  I  should  like  it  above  all  things.  Let 
us  dine  on  the  grass,  thn  table  the  great  spirit  spreads  for  his  chil- 
d.ren ;"  and  the  transient  cloud  passed  away,  and  we  sped  back  to 
the  lawn  as  if  the  bark  that  carried  us  was  a  bird  that  bore  us  on 


its  wings 


Poor  Jessie,  how  well  I  understood  her  emotions.  Home  is  a 
word,  if  there  is  one  in  the  language,  that  appeals  directly  to  the 
heart.  Man  :d  wife,  fiither  and  mother,  brothers  and  sisters, 
master  and  servant  with  all  their  ties,  associations  and  duties  all, 
all  are  contained  in  that  one  word.  Is  it  any  wonder,  when  her 
imagination  raised  them  up  before  her,  that  the  woman  became 
again  a  child  and  that  she  longed  for  the  wings  of  the  dove  to  fly 
away  to  the  tents  of  her  tribe  in  the  flir  west.  I  am  myself  as  dry, 
ns  seasoned,  and  as  hard  as  the  wood  of  which  my  clocks  are  made. 
I  am  a  citizen  of  the  world  rather  than  of  Slickville.  But  I  too  felt 
my  heart  sink  within  me  when  I  reflected  that  mine,  also,  was  deso- 
late, and.  that  I  was  alone  in  my  own  house,  the  sole  surviving 
tenant  of  all  that  large  domestic  circle,  whose  merry  voices  once 
made  its  silent  halls  vocal  with  responsive  echoes  of  happiness. 
We  know  that  our  fixed  jmicile  is  not  here,  but  we  feel  that  it  is, 
and  must  continue  to  be  our  home,  ever  dear  and  ever  sacred  until 
we  depart  hence  for  another  and  a  better  vvorld.  They  know  uut 
little  of  the  agency  of  human  feelings,  who  in  their  preaching, 
attempt  to  lessen  our  attachment  for  the  paternal  roof,  because,  in 
common  with  all  other  earthly  possessions  i*-  is  perishable  in  its 


184 


TIIK     PLURAL     OF     MOOSE. 


^^Pil 


M- 


I 


nature,  and  uncertain  in  its  tenure.  Tlio  home  of  life  is  not  the 
less  estimable,  because  it  is  not  the  homo  of  eternity  ;  but  the 
more  valualile,  perhaps,  as  it  prepares  and  fits  us  by  its  joys  and 
its  sorrows,  its  rights  and  its  duties,  and  also  by  what  it  witiiholds, 
as  well  as  imparts  for  that  inheritance  which  awaits  us  hereafter. 
Yes,  home  is  a  great  word,  but  its  full  meaning  ain't  understood 
by  every  one. 

It  ain't  those  who  have  one,  or  those  who  have  none  that  com- 
prehend what  it  is;  nor  those  who  in  the  course  of  nature  leave  the 
old  and  found  a  new  one  for  themselves  ;  nor  those  who  when  they 
quit  shut  their  eyes  and  squinch  their  faces  when  they  think  of  it, 
as  if  it  fetched  something  to  their  mind  that  warn't  pleasant  to  recol- 
lect ;  nor  those  who  suddenly  rise  so  high  in  life,  that  their  parents 
look  too  vulgar,  or  the  old  cottage  too  mean  for  them,  or  their 
former  acquaintances  too  low.     But  I'll  tell  you  who  knows  tlie 
meaning  and  feels  it  too  ;  a  ^ellow  like  me  who  had  a  cheerful 
home,  a  merry  and  a  happy  home,  and  who  when  he  returns  from 
foreign  lands  finds  it  deserted  and  as  still  as  the  grave,  and  all  that 
he  loved  scattered  and  gone,  some  to  the  tomb  and  others  to  distant 
parts  of  t'io  earth.     The  solitude  chills  him,  the  silence  appals  him. 
At  night  shadows  follow  him  like  ghosts  of  the  departed,  and  the 
walls  echo  back   the  sound  of  his  footsteps,  as  if  demons  were 
laughing  him  to  scorn.     The  least  noise  is  heard  over  the  whole 
nouse.     The  clock  ticks  so  loud  he  has  to  remove  it,  for  it  a.Tects 
his  nerves.    The  stealthy  mouse  tries  to  annoy  him  v/ith  his  mimic 
personification  of  the  burglar,  and  the  wind  moans  among  the  trees 
as  if  it  lamented  the  general  desolation.     If  he  strqijs  out  in  his 
grounds,  the  squirrel  ascends  the  highest  tree  and  chatters  and 
scolds  at  the  unusual  intrusion,  while  the  birds  fly  SivAy  screaming 
with  affright,  as  if  pursued  by  a  vulture.     They  used  to  be  tame 
once,  when  the  family  inhabited  the  house,  and  listen  with  wonder 
at  notes  sweeter  and  more  musical  than  their  own.     They  would 
even  feed  from  the  haijd  that  protected  them.     His  dog  alone  seeks 
his  society,  and    strives  to  assure   him  by  mut"i  but  expressive 
gestures  that  he  at  least  will  never  desert  him.     As  he  paces  his 
lonely  quarter-deck,   (as  he  calls  the  gravel  walk  in  front  of  his 
house,)   the  silver  light   of  the  moon  gleaming  here  and   there 
between  the  stems  of  the  aged  trees  startles  him  with  the  delusion 
of  unreal  white  robed  forms,  that  flit  about  the  shady  groves  as  if 
enjoying  or  pitying  his  condition,  or  perhaps  warning  him  that  in  a 
few  short  years  he  too  must  join  this  host  of  disembodied  spirits. 

Time  hangs  heavily  on  his  hands,  he  is  tired  of  reading,  it  is  too 
earlv  for  renose.  so  he  throws  himself  on  the  sofa  and  muses,  but 
even  meditation  calls  for  a  truce.  His  heart  laments  its  solitude, 
and  his  tongue  its  silence.  Nature  is  weary  and  exhausted  and 
sleep  at  last  comes  to  his  ^id.     But  alas  1  he  awakes  in  the  morn. 


A    DAT     ON     THE     LAKE. 


135 


is  not  the 
;  but  the 
joys  and 
vitliholdai, 
lieroafter. 
iderstood 

that  com- 

leavo  the 
vhen  they 
link  of  it, 
:  to  recol- 
r  parents 

or  their 
nows  the 
,  cheerful 
irns  from 
d  all  that 
to  distant 
pals  him. 
,  and  the 
TOS  were 
he  whole 

it  a.Tects 
lis  mimic 
the  trees 
ut  in  his 
tters  and 
creaming 

be  tame 
1  wonder 
By  would 
3ne  seeks 
tpressive 
paces  his 
nt  of  his 
nd   there 

delusion 
ves  as  if 
that  in  a 

spirits. 

it  is  too 
ISPS,  but 
solitude, 
3ted  and 
le  morn. 


ing  only  to  resume  his  dull  monotonous  course,  and  at  last  he  fully 
comprehends  what  it  ia  to  bo  alone.  Women  won't  come  to  see 
him,  for  fear  they  mi,u;ht  be  talked  about,  and  those  that  would 
come  would  soon  make  him  a  subject  of  scandal.  _Ie  and  tho 
world  like  two  people  travelling  in  opposite  directions,  soon 
increase  at  a  rapid  rate  the  distance  between  them.  He  loses  his 
interest  in  whit  is  going  on  around  him,  and  people  lose  their 
interest  in  him.  If  his  name  happens  to  be  mentioned,  it  may 
occasion  a  listless  remark,  "  I  wonder  now  he  spends  his  time,"  or 
"  the  poor  devil  must  be  lonely  there." 

Yes,  yt3,  there  are  many  folks  in  the  world  that  talk  of  things 
they  don't  understand,  and  they  are  precious  few  who  appreciate 
the  meaning  of  that  endearing  term  "  home."  He  only  knows  it 
as  I  have  said  who  has  lived  in  one,  amid  a  large  family,  of  which 
he  is  the  yolitary  surviving  member.  The  change  is  like  going 
from  the  house  to  the  sepulchre,  with  this  difference  only,  one  holds 
a  living  and  the  other  a  dead  body.  Yes,  if  you  have  had  a  home, 
you  know  what  it  is,  but  if  you  have  lost  it,  then  and  not  till  then 
do  you  feel  its  value. 


CHAPTER   X. 
A  DAY    ON   THE    LAKE,   PART   I. 

When  we  reached  the  grove,  I  left  Jessie  in  the  canoe,  and  went 
jp  to  the  house  in  search  of  her  sister.  Tackson  and  Peter  were 
sitting  on  the  wood-pile ;  the  latter  wa.,  ^moking  his  pipe,  and  the 
other  held  his  in  his  hand,  as  ho  was  relating  some  story  of  his 
exploits  in  Spain.  When  I  approached,  he  rose  up  and  saluted  me 
in  his  usual  formal  manner. 

"  Where  is  the  Doctor,"  said  T,  "  and  the  rest  of  the  party  1" 

"  Gone  to  see  a  tame  moose  of  his,  Sir,"  he  said,  "in  the  pas- 
ture ;  but  they  will  be  back  directly." 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  lighting  a  cigar  by  Peter's  pipe,  and  taking  a  seat 
alongside  of  him,  "  go  on,  Jackson ;  don't  let  me  interrupt  you." 

"  I  was  just  telling  Mr.  M'Donald,  Sir,  said  he,  "  of  a  night  I 
once  spent  on  the  field  of  battle  in  Cpain." 

"Well,  goon."  ^ 

"  As  i  was  a  saying  to  liim.  Sir,"  ho  continued, 
the  wolves  among  the  dead  and  the  dying  a  howling  like  so  many 
devils.     I  was  afraid  to  go  to  sleep,  as  I  didn't  know  when  my 
turn  might  come ;  so  I  put  my  carbine  across  i  \  /  knees,  and  sat 


it 1 J  1 


186 


▲     DAY     ON     THK     LAKE. 


fc     ,;    fi 


up  as  well  as  I  could,  (lotermined  to  sell  my  life  as  dearly  as  pos 
sibje,  but  I  was  so  weak  from  the  loss  of  blood,  that  I  kept  dozing 
and  starting  all  the  time  amost.  Oh,  what  a  tedious  night  that 
was,  Sir,  and  how  I  longed  for  the  dawn  of  day,  when  search  should 
bo  madu  among  us  for  the  wounded!  Just  as  the  fog  began  to 
rise,  1  saw  an  enormous  wolf,  about  a  hundred  yards  vv  so  from 
mc,  '  Msy  tearing  a  body  to  pieces ;  and,  taking  a  good  steady  aim 
at  liii  I,  '  fired,  when  lie  called  out : 

*"lilood  and'j.ands!  yuu  cowardly  furrin  rascal,  haven't  you 
had  your  belly-full  of  fighting  yet,  that  you  must  be  after  mur- 
thering  a  wounded  man  that  way  i  By  the  powers  of  Moll  Kelly, 
but  you  won't  serve  Pat  Kallahan  th  ,:  dirty  tr'ck  again,  anyhuw.' 

"As  he  levelled  at  me,  I  fell  back,  and  the  ball  passed  right  over 
me  and  struck  a  wounded  'urse  that  was  broke  down  behind,  and 
a  sittin'  up  on  his  fore-legs  like  a  dog.  Oh,  the  scream  of  thj.t  are 
hanimal,  Sir,  was  just  like  a  Christian's.  It  was  hawful.  1  hove 
the  sound  of  it  in  my  ears  now  halmost.  It  pierced  through  me, 
and  you  might  have  'eard  it  that  still  morning  over  the  whole  field. 
He  sprung  up  and  then  fell  over,  and  kicked  and  struggled  furious 
for  a  minute  or  two  before  he  died,  and  every  time  he  lashed  out, 
you  could  a  'eard  a  'elpless  wounded  wretch  a  groanin'  bitterly,  as 
he  battered  away  at  him.  The  truth  is,  Sir,  what  I  took  for  a  wo'f 
that  hazy  morning  was  poor  Pat,  who  was  sitting  up,  and  trying 
to  bandage  his  ankle,  that  was  shattered  by  a  bullet,  and  the  way 
he  bobbed  his  head  up  and  down,  as  he  stooped  forward,  looked 
exactly  as  a  wolf  does  wiien  he  is  tearing  the  flesh  off  a  dead 
body. 

*'  Well,  the  scream  of  that  are  'orse,  and  the  two  shots  the  dra- 
goon and  I  exchanged,  saved  my  life,  for  1  saw  a  t^  n  and  a  woman 
making  right  st^'aight  for  us.  \t  was  Betty,  Sir,  Gou  bless  her,  and 
Sergeant  M'Clure.  The  'oulin'  s-he  sot  up,  hen  she  saw  me,  was 
dreadful  to  'ear,  Sir. 

" '  Betty,'  said  1,  '  dear,  for  heaven's  sake  see  if  you  can  find  a 
drop  of  brandy  in  any  of  these  poor  fellows'  canteens,  for  I  am 
perish'ng  of  thirst,  and  'most  chilled  *o  death.' 

" '  Oh,  Tom,  dear,'  said  she,  '  I  have  thought  of  that,'  and  un- 
slinging  one  from  her  "shoulders  put  it  to  my  lips,  and  I  believe  1 
•woulr".  have  drained  '  -  draft,  but  she  snatched  it  away  directly, 
and  todid  : 

'"Oh,  do  'ee  think  oi  that  dreadful  stroke  of  the  sun.  Tom.  It 
will  set  you  crazy  if  you  drink  any  more.' 

" '  The  stroke  of  the  sun  be  hanged  !*  said  I ;  '  i<-'s  not  in  my 
head  this  time—  it's  in  the  other  eend  of  me.' 

" '  Oh,  dear,  uear  1'  said  Betty ;  '  two  such  marks  as  them,  and 
you  so  handsome,  too !     Oh,  dear,  dear  !' 

"  Poor  old  soul !  it's  a  way  she  had  of  trying  to  come  round  me. 


A     DAT     ON     THE     LAKE. 


187 


*♦  ♦  Where  18  it  ?'  said  M'Ciure. 

*"In  the  calf  of  my  leg,'  said  I. 

*'  Well,  lie  was  a  handy  man,  for  ho  had  been  a  hospital-sargcant, 
on  accoiiiit  of  being  able  to  read  doctors'  pot-hook8  vnd  inscrip- 
tions. So  he  cut  my  boot,  and  stript  down  my  stocking  and 
looked  at  it.     Says  he,  'I  must  make  a  turn-and-quit.' 

'"Oh,  Rory,"  said  I,  'don't  turn  and  quit  your  old  comrade  that 
way.' 

" '  Oh,  Rory,  dear,'  said   Betty,  '  don't'ee  leave  Tom  now 

don't'ee,  that's  a  good  soul.' 

"'Piioh!'  said  he,  'nonsense!  How  your  early  training  has 
been  neglected,  Jackson  !' 

"'  Rory,'  said  1,  'if  1  was  well,  you  wonldn't^dare  to  pass  that 
slvir  upon  me.  1  am  as  well-trained  a  soldier,  and  as  bravc  a  man, 
as  ever  yc<u  was.' 

'"Tut,  tut,  man,'  said  he,  'I  meant  your  learning.' 

" '  Well,'  says  I, '  1  can't  brag  much  of  that,  and  1  am  not  sorry  for 
it.  Many  a  better  scholar  nor  you,  and  better-loftking  man,  too, 
has  been  anged  afore  now,  for  all  his  schoolin'.' 

"Says  he,  'I'll  soon  set  you  up,  Tom.  Let  me  see  if  I  can  find 
anything  here  that  will  do  for  a  turn-and-quit.'  ' 

"Close  to  where  I  lay,  there  was  a  **urrin  officei,  -vho  had  his 
head  nearly  amputated  with  a  sabre  cut.  Well,  he  '  ok  a  beauti- 
ful gold  watch  repeater  out  of  his  fob,  and  a  great  roll  of  doub- 
loons out  of  one  pocket,  and  a  little  case  of  diamond  rings  out  of 
the  other. 

" '  The  thieving  Italian  rascal !'  said  he,  '  he  has  robbed  a  jew- 
eller's shop  beforp  ho  h  ft  the  town,'  and  he  gave  the  body  a  kick 
and  passed  on.     Well,  close  to  him  was  an  English  officer. 

"  '  Ah,'  said  he,  '  here  is  something  useful,'  and  he  undid  his  sash, 
and  then  feeling  in  his  breast-pocket,  he  hauled  out  a  tin  tooacco- 
case,  and  openin'  of  it,  says  he  : 

" '  Tom,  here's  a  real  god-send  for  you.  This  and  •  o  sash  I 
will  give  you  as  a  keensake.  They  are  mine  by  the  fortune  of 
war,  but  I  will  bestow  t'lem  on  you.' " 

"Oigh!  oigh!"  said  P  3ter,  "she  was  no  shentleman." 

"  lie  wr.rn't  then,  Sir  '  said  Tom,  not  understanding  him,  "  for 
he  was  only  a  sargeant  Lke  me  at  that  time,  but  he  is  now,  for  he 
is  an  officer." 

"No,  no,"  said  Peter,  "the  king  can  make  an  offisher,  but  she 
can't  niake  a  shentleman.  She  took  the  oyster  her  nainsel,  and 
gave  you  the  shell." 

"  Well,"  continued  Jackson,  "  he  took  the  sash,  and  tied  it  round 
my  leg,  and  then  took  •■  bayonet  off  a  corpse,  and  with  that  twisted 
it  round  and  round  so  tight  it  hurt  more  nor  the  wound,  and  then 
he  secured  the  bayonet  so  that  it  wouldn't  slip.     There  was  a  fur 


188 


A     DAY     OJSr     THE     LAKE, 


r't 


y 


\'f   ^1 


V      ■  :l 


I      i.l 


rin  trooper's  'orse  not  fur  off  that  had  lost  his  rider,  and  had  got 
his  rem  under  his  foreleg,  so  Betty  caught  him  and  broucrht  him  to 
AS  here  1  was  a  sitting.  JJy  the  aid  of  anoli  r^r  pull  at  Lhe  canteen 
which  put  new  life  into  nie,  and  by  their  assistance,  I  was  got  ori 
the  saddle,  and  he  and  Betty  steadied  me  on  the  hanimal,  and  led 
me  oil.  1  no  S(  oner  got  on  the  'orse  than  Betty  fell  to  a  cryin<» 
and  a  scolding  again  lilvc  anything.  '^ 

"  '  VV hat  ails  you  now,'  says  l^^  Betty  1  You  are  like  your  own 
town  ot  1  lymouth— It's  showery  weather  with  you  aU  the  year 
round  a'most.     What's  the  matter  now  V 

"  '  Oh,  Tom,  Tom,'  said  she,  '  you  will  break  my  'eart  yet— I 
know  you  will.'  *' 

"  'Why,  what  have  I  done  ?'  says  I.  '  I  couldn't  help  getting 
that  httle  scratch  on  the  leg.' 

" '  Oh,  it  tante  that,'  she  said  ;  '  it's  that  'orrid  stroke  of  the 
sun.  ihere's  your  poor  'ead  huncovered  again.  Where  is  your 
elraetr  •' 

" '  Oh,  bother,'  sais  1,  '  'ow  do  I  know  ?  Somewhere  on  the 
ground,  I  suppose.' 

"  Well,  back  she  ran  as  'ard  as  she  could,  but  McClure  wouldn't 
wait  a  moment  for  her  and  went  on,  and  as  she  couldn't  find  mine 
she  undid  the  furriner'^  and  brought  that,  and  to  pacify  her  I  had 
to  put  It  on  and  wear  it.  It  was  a  good  day  fur  McClure,  and  I 
was  glad  of  it,  for  he  was  a  great  scholar  and  the  best  friend  I 
ever  had.  ^  He  sold  the  'orse  for  twenty  pounds  .ifterwards." 

"Siie  don't  want  to  say  nothin'  disrespectable,'L  said' Peter 
"  against  her  friend,  but  she  was  no  shentleman  for  all  tat."  ' 

"  lie  is  now,"  said  Tom  again,  with  an  air  of  triumph.  «  He  is 
an  officer,  and  dines  at  the  mess.  I  don't  suppose  he'd  be  seen 
with  me  now,  for  it's  agen  the  rules  of  the  service,  but  he  is  the 
best  friend  1  have  in  the  world." 

"She  don't  know  nothin'  about  ta  mess  herself,"  said  Peter, 
"  but  she  supposes  she  eats  meat  and  drinks  wine  every  tay,  which 
was  iTiore  tan  she  did  as  a  poy.  But  she'd  rather  live  on  oatmeal 
and  drink  whiskey,  and  be  a  poor  shentleman,  than  be  an  officher 
like  Rory  M'Clure,  and  tine  with  the  Queen,  Cot  bless  her," 

"  And  the  old  pipe,  then,  was  all  you  got  for  your  share,  was 
it?"  sa)'s  I. 

'  No,  Sir,"  said  Tom,  "  it  warn't.  One  day,  when  I  was  nearly 
well,  Betty  came  to  me. 

"  '  Oh,  Tom,"  said  she,  '  I  have  such  good  news  for  you.' 

What  is  it  ?'  sais  I ;  '  are  we  going  to  have  another  general 

'"Oh,  dear,  I  hope  not,'  she  said.     'You  have  had  enough  of 
fighting  for  one  while,  and  you  are  always  so  misfortunate.' 
"'Well,  what  is  it?' sais  I. 


A     DA.Y     ON    THE     LAKE. 


189 


"  '  Will  you  promise  me  not  to  tell  V 

«  '  Yes,'  said  i,  '  I  will.' 

"  '  That's  just  what  you  said  tha  first  time  I  kissed  you.  Do  get 
out,'  she  replied,  'and  you  promise  not  to  lisp  a  word  of  it  to  Rory 
McClure  1  or  he'll  claim  it  as  he  did  that  'orse  ;  and,  Tom,  I  caught 
that  'orse,  and  he  was  mine.  It  was  a  'orrid,  nasty,  dirty,  mean 
trick  that.' 

"  '  Betty,'  said  I,  '  I  won't  hear  a  word  agin  him :  he  is  the  best 
friend  I  ever  had,  but  I  won't  tell  him,  if  you  wish  it.' 

"  Well,'  said  Betty,  and  she  bust  out  crying  for  joy,  for  she  can 
cry  at  nothing,  a'most.  '  Look,  Tom,  here's  twenty  Napoleons ;  I 
found  them  nuilted  in  that  officer's  'elmet.'  So  after  all,  I  got  out 
of  that  scrape  pretty  well,  didn't  I,  Sir  ? " 

"  Indeed  she  did,"  said  Peter,  "  but  if  she  had  seen  as  much  of 
wolves  as  Peter  McDonald  has,  she  wouldn't  have  been  much 
frightened  by  them.  This  is  the  way  to  scare  a  whole  pack  of 
them,"  and  stooping  down,  and  opening  a  sack,  he  took  out  the  bag- 
pipes, and  struck  up  a  favorite  highland  air.  If  it  was  calculated 
to  alarm  the  animals  of  the  forest,  it  at  all  events  served  now  to 
recall  the  party,  who  soon  made  their  appearance  from  the  moose 
yard.  "  Tat,"  said  Peter,  "  will  make  'em  scamper  like  the  tevil. 
It  has  saved  her  life  several  times." 

"  So  I  should  think,"  said  I.  (For  of  all  the  awful  instruments 
that  ever  was  heard,  that  is  the  worst.  Pigs  in  a  bag  aint  the 
smallest  part  of  a  circumstance  to  it,  for  the  way  it  squeals  is  a 
caution  to  cats.)  When  the  devil  was  a  carpenter,  he  cut  his  foot 
so  bad  with  an  adze,  he  thr^w  it  down,  and  gave  up  the  trade  in 
disgust.  And  now  that  Highlanders  have  given  up  the  trade  of 
barbarism,  and  become  the  noblest  fellows  in  Europe,  they  should 
follow  the  devil's  iexample,  and  throw  away  the  bagpipes  for  ever." 

"  r  have  never  seen  McClure,"  said  Jackson,  addressing  me, 
"but  once  since  he  disputed  with  the  countryman  about  the  plural 
of  moose  in  the  country-market.  I  met  him  in  the  street  one  day, 
and  says  I, 

" '  IIow  are  you,  Rory  1     Suppose  we  take  a  bit  of  a  walk.' 

"  Well,  he  held  up  his  head  stiff  and  stiaij^ht,  and  didn't  speak 
for  a  minute  or  two  ;  at  last  ho  said  : 

"  '  How  do  you  do,  Sargeant  Jackson  V 

"  '  Why,  Rory,'  sais  I,  '  what  ails  you  to  act  that  way  ?  What's 
the  matter  Avithyou  now,  to  treat  an  old  comrade  in  that  manner]" 

"  He  stared  hard  at  me  in  the  face  again,  without  giving  any  ex- 
planation. At  last  he  said,  "  Sargeant  Jackson,'  and  then  he  stop- 
ped again.  *  if  anybody  speers  at  you  where  li^nsign  Roderlch 
McClure  is  to  be  found,  say  on  the  second  flat  of  the  officers' 
quarters  at  the  North  Barracks,'  and  he  walked  on  and  left  me. 
He  had  got  his  commission." 


140 


A     DAY     ON     THE     LAKE. 


*"  She  hiul  a  highland  name,"  said  Potor,  "  and  tat  is  all,  but  she 
was  only  a  lowland  Glaskow  peast.  Ta  teivil  tack  a'  such  friends 
as  tat." 

**  Doctor,"  said  I,  "  Jessie  and  I  have  discovered  the  canoe,  and 
had  a  glorious  row  of  it.  I  see  >ou  have  a  new  skill'  there  ;  sup. 
pose  we  all  fi'iish  the  morning  on  the  lake.  We  have  boen  up  to 
the  w."'  jflill,  and  if  it  is  agreeable  to  you,  Jessie  proposes  to  dine 
at  tho  intervale  instead  of  the  house." 

"Just  the  thing,"  said  the  Doctor,  "but  you  understand  these 
matters  better  than  I  do,  so  just  give  what  instructions  you  think 
proper." 

Jackson  and  Betty  were  accordingly  directed  to  pack  up  what 
was  nfe(lful,  and  hold  themselves  in  readiness  to  be  embarked  on 
our  return  from  the  excursion  on  the  water,  Jessie,  her  sister  and 
myself  took  the  canoe  ;  the  Doctor  and  Cutler  the  boat,  and  Peter 
was  placed  at  the  stern  to  awaken  the  sleeping  echoes  of  the  lake 
with  his  pipes.  The  Doctor  seeing  me  provided  with  a  short  gun, 
ran  hastily  back  to  the  li(v>ise  for  his  bow  and  arrows,  and  thus 
equipped  and  groupeci,  we  proceeded  up  the  lake,  the  canoe  taking 
the  load.  Peter  struck  up  a  tune  on  his  pipes.  Tl.o  great 
expanse  of  water,  and  the  large  open  area  where  they  were  played, 
as  well  as  the  novelty  of  the  scene,  almost  made  me  think  that  it 
was  not  such  bad  music  atler  all,  as  I  had  considered  it. 

After  we  had  proceeded  a  short  distance,  Jessie  proposed  a  race 
between  the  canoe  and  the  boat.  I  tried  to  dissuade  her  from  it,  on 
account  of  the  fatigue  she  had  already  undergone,  and  the  excite- 
ment  she  had  manifested  at  the  waterfall,  but  she  declared  herself 
perfectly  well,  and  able  for  the  contest.  The  odds  were  against 
the  gills;  for  the  Ca|  lain  and  the  Doctor  were  both  experienced 
hands,  and  powerful,  athletic  men,  and  their  boat  was  a  flat-bot- 
tomed skifi;  and  drew  but  little  water.  Added  to  which,  the  youn<T 
women  had  been  long  out  of  practice,  and  their  hands  and  muscles 
were  unprepared  by  exercise.  I  yielded  at  last,  on  condition  that 
the  race  should  terminate  at  a  large  rock,  that  rose  out  of  the  lake 
at  about  a  mile  from  us.  1  named  this  distance,  not  merely  because 
I  wished  to  limit  the  extent  of  their  exertion,  but  becau  "  I  knew 
that  It  they  had  the  lead  that  far,  they  would  be  unable  to  sustain 
It  beyond  that,  and  that  they  would  be  beaten  by  the  main  strength 
of  the  rowers.  We  accordingly  slackened  our  speed  till  the  boat 
came  up  alongside  of  us.  The  challenge  was  given  and  accepted 
and  the  terminus  pointed  out,  and  when  the  signal  was  made,  away 
we  went  with  great  speed. 

For  more  than  two-thirds  of  the  distance,  we  were  bow  and 
bow,  sometimes  one  and  sometimes  the  other  being  ahead,  but  on 
no  occasion  did  the  distance  exceed  a  yard  or  so.  When  we  had 
but  the  remaining  third  to  accomplish;  I  cautioned  the  girls  that 


A    DAY     ON     THE     LAKE 


141 


the  rowers  would  now  probably  put  out  all  their  strength,  and  take 
them  by  surprise,  and  therefore  advised  them  to  be  on  their  guard. 
They  said  a  few  words  to  each  other  in  their  native  language, 
laughed,  and  at  once  prepared  for  the  crisis,  by  readjusting  their 
scats  and  foothold,  and  then  the  eHest  said,  with  a  looic  of  anima- 
tion, that  made  her  surpassingly  benutifiil,  "  Now,"  and  away  we 
went  liice  iled  lightning,  leaving  the  boat  behind  at  a  rate  that  was 
perfectly  incredible. 

They  had  evidently  been  playing  with  them  at  first,  and  doing 
no  more  than  to  ascertain  their  speed  and  power  of  propulsion, 
and  had  all  along  intended  to  reserve  themselves  for  this  triumph 
at  the  last.  As  soon  as  we  reached  the  winning  point,  I  rose  up 
to  give  the  cheer  of  victory,  but  just  at  that  moment,  they  suddenly 
backed  water  with  their  paddles,  and  in  turning  towards  the  boat, 
the  toe  of  my  boot  caught  in  one  of  the  light  ribs  of  the  canoe, 
which  had  been  loosened  by  the  heat  of  the  sun,  and  I  instantly 
saw  that  a  fall  was  unavoidable.  To  put  a  hand  on  the  side  of  the 
little  bark  would  inevitably  overset  it,  and  pr'olpitate  the  girls  into 
the  lake.  I  had  but  one  resource  left,  therefore,  and  that  was  to 
arch  over  the  gunwale,  and  lift  my  feet  clear  of  it,  while  I  dove 
into  the  water.  It  was  the  work  of  an  instant,  and  in  another,  1 
had  again  reached  the  canoe.  Begging  Jessie  to  move  forward,  so 
as  to  counter-balance  my  weight,  1  rose  over  he  stern,  (if  a  craft 
can  be  said  to  have  one,  where  both  ends  are  alike,  and  it  can  be 
propelled  either  way,)  and  then  took  the  seat  that  had  been  occu- 
pied b}'  her. 

"  Now,  Jane,"  said  I,  "  I  must  return  to  the  house,  and  get  a  dry 
suit  of  the  Doctor's  clothes  ;  let  us  see  what  we  can  do.  The  Doc- 
tor told  me  Betty  knew  more  about  his  Vvardrobe  than  he  did  him- 
self, and  would  furnish  me  with  what  I  required ;  and  in  the  mean- 
time, that  they  would  lay  upon  their  oars  till  we  returned.  Are 
you  ready,  Miss,"  said  I,  "  1  want  you  to  do  your  prettiest  now, 
and  put  your  best  Oot  out,  because  I  wish  them  to  see  that  1  am 
not  the  awkward  critter  in  a  canoe  they  think  I  am." 

The  fact  is.  Squire,  that  neither  the  Doctor  nor  Cutler  knew,  that 
to  avoid  falling,  under  the  circumstances  I  was  placed  in,  and  to 
escape  without  capsiz»ng  the  canoe,  was  a  feat  that  no  man,  but  one 
familiar  with  the  management  of  those  fragile  barks,  and  a  good 
swimmer,  too,  can  perform.  Peter  was  aware  of  it,  and  appre 
ciated  it;  but  th-,  other  two  seemed  disposed  io  cut  their  jokes 
up.)i  me ;  and  them  that  do  that,  generally  find,  in  the  long  run,  I 
am  upsides  with  them,  that's  a  fiict.     A  cat  and  a  Yankee  always 


C()mG  on  thfir  feet  Ditch  them  u'^  in  the  air  as  hifli. 


nnrl    ns  nft.p.n^ 


as  you  please. 

"  Now  for  it,"  said  I,  and  away  we  weni-  ,at  a  2.30  pace,  as  we 
say  of  our  trotting  horses.     Cutler  and  the  Doctor  cheered  us  as 


142 


A    DAY     ON     THE     LAKE. 


-Km  went ;  and  Peter,  as  the  latter  told  me  afterwards,  said :  «  A 
man  v.-ho  can  dwell  like  i,n  otter,  on  both  land  and  sea,  has  two 
lives.*'  I  indorse  that  saw,  he  made  it  himself;  it's  genuine,  and  it 
was  like  ^.  trapper's  maxim.     Warn't  it  1 

As  soon  as  I  landed,  I  cut  off  for  the  house,  and  in  no  time  rigged 
up  in  a  dry  suit  of  our  host's,  and  joined  the  party,  afore  they 
knew  where  they  were.  I  put  o:i  a  face  as  like  the  Doctor's,  as 
two  clocks  of  mine  are  to  each  other.  I  didn't  do  it  to  make  fun 
of  him,  but  oui  ox  him.  Oh,  they  roared  again,  and  the  Doctoi 
joined  in  it  as  heartily  as  any  of  them,  though  he  didn't  (inderstand 
the  joke.  But  Peter  didn't  seem  to  like  it.  He  had  lived  so  mucli 
among  the  Indians,  and  was  so  accustomed  to  their  way  of  biling 
things  down  to  an  essence,  that  he  spoke  in  proverbs,  or  wise  saws. 
Says  he  to  me,  with  a  shake  of  his  head,  "  a  mocking-bird  has  no 
voice  of  its  own.'^  It  warn't  a  bad  sayin',  was  it  ?  I  wish  I  had 
noted  more  of  them,  for  though  I  like  'em,  I  am  so  yarney,  I  can't 
make  them  as  pithy  as  he  did.  I  can't  talk  short-hand,  and  I  must 
say  1  like  condensation.  Now,  brevity  is  the  only  use  to  individu- 
als there  is  in  telegraphs.  There  is  very  little  good  news  in  the 
world  for  any  of  us ;  and  bad  news  comes  fast  enough.  I  hate 
them  myself.  The  only  good  there  is  in  'em,  is  to  make  people 
write  short ;  for  if  you  have  to  pay  for  every  word  you  use,  you 
won't  be  extravagant  in  'em,  there  is  no  mistake. 

Telegraphs  ruin  intellect ;  they  reduce  a  wise  man  to  the  level 
of  a  fool ;  and  fifty  years  hence,  there  won't  be  a  sensible  trader 
left.     Por  national  pu.^oses  they  are  very  well,  and  government 
ought  to  have  kept  them  to  themselves,  for  those  objects  ;  but  they 
play  the  devil  with  merchants.     There  is  no  room  for  the  exercise 
of  judgment.     It's  a  dead  certainty  now.     Flour  is  eight  dollars  in 
England ;  well,  every  one  knows  that,  and  the  price  varies,  and 
every  one  knows  that  also,  by  telegraph.     Before  that,  a  judgmati- 
cal  trader  took  his  cigar  in  his  mouth,  sat  down,  and  calculated. 
Crops  short,  Russian  war,  blockade,  and  so  on.     Capital  will  run 
up  prices,  till  news  of  new  harvests  are  known  ;  and  then  they  will 
come  down  by  the  run.      He  deliberates,  reasons,  and  decides. 
Now,  the  last  Liverpool  paper  gives  the  price  current.     It  advises 
all,  and  governs  all.    Any  blockhead  can  be  a  merchant  now.    For- 
merly, they  poked  sapey-headed  goneys  into  Parliament,  to  play 
dummey ;  or  into  the  army  and  navy,  the  church,  and  the  colonial 
office.     But  they  kept  clever  fellows  for  law,  special  commissioners, 
the  stage,  the  'Times,'  the  'Chronicle,'  and  such  like  able  papers, 
and  commerce;  and  men  of  middlin'  talents  were  resarved  for  doc- 
tors, solicitors,  Gretna  Green,  and  so  on. 

But  thfe  mistbrtinate  prince-mcrehants  now  will  have  to  go  to 
the  bottom  of  the  list  with  tradesmeu  and  retailers.  They  can'!; 
have  an  opinion  of  their  own— the  telegrapl.  will  give  it.     The 


A.    DAY     ON     THlfi     LAKE. 


143 


iiiuine,  and  it 


missioners. 


latest  quotations,  as  they  call  them,  come  to  them,  they  know  that 
iron  is  Jirm..,  and  timber  giving  way^  that  lead  is  dull  and  heavy^ 
and  coal  gone  to  blazes,  while  the  stocks  Uie  rising  and  vessels 
sinking  ;  all  the  rest  they  won't  trouble  their  heads  about.  "Die 
man  who  trades  with  Cuba,  won't  cars  about  Sinope,  and  it's  too 
much  troulWe  to  h'ok  for  it  on  the  map.  While  the  Black  Sea  man 
won't  care  about  Toronto,  or  whether  it  is  in  Nova  Scotia  or  Ver- 
mont, in  Canada  or  California.  There  won't  soon  be  a  merchant 
that  understands  geography. 

But  what  is  wuss,  half  the  time  the  news  is  false;  and  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  that,  old  Hemp  and  Iron  would  have  made  a  for- 
tune. And  if  it  is  true,  it's  worse  still,  for  he  would  have  acted 
on  his  own  judgment  if  he  hadn't  heard  it,  and  circumstances  would 
have  altered  as  they  always  are  doing  every  day,  and  he  would 
have  made  a  rael  hit.  Oh,  I  hate  them.  And,  besides  this,  they 
have  spoiled  them  by  swearing  the  operators.  An  oath  gives  them 
fellows  such  an  itch  to  blart,  that  though  they  don't  inform,  they 
let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag,  and  that  is  as  bad.  Tell  you  what,  I 
wouldn't  like  to  confess  by  telegraph.  If  I  am  courting  a  gall,  and 
she  sais  all  right,  why  then  my  fun  is  spo'ed,  tor  when  a  thing  is 
settled,  all  excitement  is  gone,  and  if  I  am  refused,  the  longer  I 
am  in  ignorance  the  better.  It  is  wiser  to  wait,  as  the  Frenchman 
did  at  Clare,  who  sat  up  three  nights  to  see  hew  the  letters  passed 
over  the  wires.  Well,  if  I  am  married,  I  have  to  report  progress, 
and  log-books  are  always  made  up  before  or  afterwards.  It's  apt 
to  injure  my  veracity.  In  short,  you  know  what  I  mean,  and  I 
needn't  follow  it  out,  for  a  nod  is  as  good  as  a  wink  to  a  blind 
horse. 

But  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  merchants ;  any  fool  will  get  along 
as  well  as  the  best  of  them  now.  Dear  me,  I  recollect  a  man  they 
poked  fun  at  once  at  Salem.  They  induced  him,  by  way  of  a  rise, 
to  ship  a  cargo  of  blankets  and  warming-pans  to  the  "West  Indies. 
Well,  he  did  so,  and  made  a  good  speck,  for  the  pans  were  bought 
for  dippers,  and  the  blankets  for  strainers.  Yes,  telegraphs  will 
reduce  merchants  to  the  level  of  that  fellow  Isaac  Oxter. 

But  1  must  look  for  the  trail  again,  or  I  shall  forget  my  story. 

I  think  I  left  off  where  I  got  back  in  the  canoe,  and  joined  the 
party  in  the  boat.  Well,  we  then  proceeded  like  the  off  and  near 
ox,  pulling  from  rather  than  to  each  other,  but  still  keeping  neok 
and  neck  as  it  were.  In  this  manner  we  proceeded  '.o  the  hef^d  of 
the  lake,  and  then  as  we  re*"urned,  steered  for  a  small  wooded 
island  in  the  centre,  where  I  proposed  to  land  and  rest  awhile,  for 
this  beautiful  sheet  of  wftter  was  of  considerable  extent.  As  we 
approached  it,  Peter  again  struck  up  his  pipes,  and  shortly  after- 
wards a  noble  male  moose,  as  much  terrified  by  the  noise,  as 
M'Donald  said  Canada  wolves  were,  broke  cover,  and  swam  fo» 


144 


A     DAT     ON     THE     LAKE 


the  mam-land.  Tlie  moose  frequently  select  such  places  to  secure 
their  young  from  the  bears,  who  are  their  greatest  enemies,  and 
f  nH  an  easy  prey  in  their  helpless  calves.  It  is  not  improbable 
that  the  female  still  remained,  and  that  this  act  of  gallantry  in  the 
buck  was  intended  to  withdraw  attention  from  her.  and  thus  save 
her  from  pursuit.  I  had  no  bullets  with  me,  and  my  gun  was  only 
loaded  with  duck-shot.  To  discharge  that  at  him,  would  have  been 
a  wanton  act  of  cruelty,  as  at  most  it  could  only  inflict  upon  him 
painful  wounds.  In  this  emergency,  Jessie  pointed  to  a  stout  half- 
inch  rope  that  was  coiled  up  in  the  bottom  of  the  canoe,  and  J  im- 
mediately  exchanged  places  with  her,  and  commenced  making  a 
lasso,  while  she  plied  the  paddle. 

We  gained  rapidly  upon  him,  and  I  was  preparing  to  throw  the 
fatal  noose  over  his  horns,  when  to  my  astonishment  he  raised  his 
neck  and  a  portion  of  his  fore-legs  out  of  the  water,  as  if  he  was 
landing.  We  were  then  a  considerable  distance  from  the  shore 
but  It  appeared,  as  I  afterwards  learned  from  the  Doctor,  that  a 
long  low  neck  of  land  made  out  there  into  the  lake,  that  was  only 
submerged  in  the  spring  and  autumn,  but  in  summer  was  covered 
with  wild  grass,  upon  which  deer  fed  with  avidity,  as  an  agreeable 
change  fr  jm  browsing.  The  instinct  o^  the  animal  induced  him  to 
make  for  this  shallow,  from  which  he  could  bound  away  at  full 
speed  (trot)  into  the  cover. 

All  hope  of  the  chase  was  now  over,  and  I  was  about  abandon- 
ing  it  in  despair,  when  an  arrow  whizzed  by  us,  and  in  an  instant 
he  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  exposed  his  hu^  3  form  to  vie\v.  He  was 
a  remarkable  fine  specimen  of  his  kind,  tor  they  are  the  largest  as 
well  as  the  ugliest  of  the  deer  tribe.  For  an  instant  he  paused 
suook  himself  violently,  and  holding  down  his  head,  put  up  his 
fore-leg  to  break  ofl'  that  which  evidently  maddened  him  with  pain 
He  then  stood  up  erect,  with  his  head  high  in  the  air,  and  laid  his 
horns  back  on  hi«  neck,  and  giving  a  snort  of  terror,  prepared  to 
save  his  life  by  flight. 

It  is  astonishing  how  much  animation  and  attitude  has  to  do  with 
beauty.  I  had  never  seen  one  look  well  before,  but  as  his  form 
was  relieved  against  the  sky,  he  looked  r.s  he  is,  the  giant  king  of 
the  forest.  He  was  just  in  the  act  of  shifting  his  feet  in  the  yield- 
mg  surfice  of  the  boggy  meadow,  preparatory  to  a  start,  when  he 
was  again  transfixed  by  an  arrow,  in  a  more  vulnerable  and  vital 
part.  He  sprung,  or  rather  reared  forward,  and  came  down  on 
his  knees,  and  then  several  times  repeated  the  attempt  to  com- 
mence his  flight  by  the  same  desperate  effort.  At  last  he  fell  to 
rise  no  more,  and  soon  rolled  over,  and  after  some  splashing  with 
his   head    f.n   .avnlH    tVio  iTr>i-><i>TlI"n'  ^«n«-i.   t j .• -     •   .1  1 

mitted  to  his  fate.     Nothing  now  was  visible  of  him  but  the  tops 


A    DAY     ON     THE     LAKE. 


145 


of  his  horns,  and  a  small  strip  of  the  hide  that  covered  his  ribs.    A 
shout  from  the  boat  proclaimed  the  victory. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Siick,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  what  could  you  have  done 
with  only  a  charge  of  duck-shot  in  your  gun,  eh  1  The  arrow,  you 
see,  served  for  shot  and  bullet.  1  could  have  killed  him  with  the 
first  shaft,  but  his  head  was  turned  and  covered  the  vital  spot.  So 
I  had  to  aim  a  little  too  far  forward,  but  still  it  carried  a  death- 
warrant  with  it,  for  he  couldn't  have  run  over  a  mile  without 
falling  from  exhaustion,  arising  from  thp  loss  of  blood.  It  is  a 
charming  day  for  the  bow,  for  there  is  no  wind,  and  I  could  hit  a 
dollar  at  a  hundred  and  twenty  yards.  There  is  another  on  that 
island,  but  she  probably  has  a  calf,  perhaps  two,  and  it  would  be  a 
wicked  waste  of  the  food  that  God  provides  for  us  to  destroy  her. 
But  we  must  get  this  gentleman  into  the  boat,  and  it  will  bring  us 
down  so  deep  in  the  water,  we  must  keep  near  the  shore,  as  it  may 
be  necessary  occasionally  to  wade." 

Peter,  without  ceremony,  began  to  make  preparations  for  such 
an  emergency.  He  had  been  accustomed  all  his  life,  until  he  left 
the  Norwest  Company's  employment,  to  the  kilt,  and  he  neither 
felt  nor  looked  at  home  in  the  trousers.  Like  most  of  his  countrv- 
men,  he  thought  there  was  more  beauty  in  a  hairy  leg,  and  in 'a 
manly  shammy-leather  looking  skin,  than  in  any  covering.  While 
his  bald  knee,  the  ugliest,  weakest,  m.ost  complicated  and  important 
joint  in  the  frame,  he  no  doubt  regarded  with  as  much  veneration 
as  the  pious  do  the  shaven  crown  of  a  monk.  He  therefore  very 
complacently  and  coolly  began  to  disencumber  himself  of  this 
detestable  article  of  the  tailor's  skill.  I  thought  it  best  therefore 
to  push  off  in  time,  to  spare  his  daughters  this  spectacle,  merely 
telling  the  Doctor  we  would  wait  for  him  where  we  had  embarked. 

We  proceeded  very  leisurely,  only  once  in  a  while  dipping  the 
paddle  gently  into  the  water,  so  as  to  keep  up  the  motion  of  the 
canoe.  The  girls  amused  themselves  by  imitating  the  call  and 
answer  of  the  loon,  the  blue  jay,  the  king-fisher,  and  the  owl.  With 
a  piece  of  bark,  rolled  up  in  the  form  of  a  short-ear  trumpet,  they 
mimicked  the  hideous  voice  of  the  moo.^e,  and  the  not  less  disagree- 
able lowing  of  the  cariboo.  Thr  maran  started  in  surprise  at  his 
affrighted  neighbor  on  lie  water,  and  ihe  fox  no  doubt,  crept  from 
his  hole  to  listen  to  the  voice  that  called  him  to  plunder,  at  this 
dangerous  hour.  All  these  sounds  are  signals  among  the  Indians, 
and  are  carried  to  a  perfection,  that  deceives  the  ear  of  nature 
itself.  J  had  read  of  their  great  power,  in  this  species  of  ventrilo- 
quism, but  never  had  heard  it  practised  before,  with  the  exception 
of  the  imitation  of  the  deer  tribe,  which  is  well-known  to  white 
"  still-hunters." 

They  are,  in  their  own  country,  not  very  communicative  to 
strangers  J  and  above  all,  never  disclose  practices  so  peculiarly 


14? 


A     DAT    Olt     THH     LAKB. 


reserved  for  their  own  service  or  dofencc.     I  was  amazed  at  thew 
skill  in  this  brunch  of  Indian  accomplishment. 

Bu«  the  notes  of  the  dear  little  cliick-a-deedeo  charmed  me  the 
most.    The  stillnese  of  this  wild,  sequestered  place,  was  most  afrree- 
ably  diversified  by  all  these  fictitious  birds  and  beasts,  that  seemed 
inviting,  each  his  own  kind,  to  come  and  look  at  this  lovely  scene. 
From  the  wonderful  control   they  appeared   to  have  over  their 
voices,  I  knew  that  one,  or  both  of  them  must  sing.     I  thcr  jfore 
asked    them    if   they   knew   the   Canadian-boat   song;    and    they 
answered,   with  great   delight,    that   they  did.     And   suiting  the 
action  to  the  word,  which,  by  the  bye,  adds  marvellously  to  its 
effect,  they  sung  it  charmingly.     I  couldn't  resist  their  entreaties  to 
join  in  it,  although  I  would  infinitely  have  preferred  listening  to 
taking  a  part.     When  we  concluded  it,  Jessie  said  it  was  niiich 
prettier  in  her  nativa  tongue,   and  sung  a  verse  in  her  own  ur. 
guage.     She  said  the  governor  of  the  fort,  who  spoke  Indian,  I'is 
well  as  English,  had  arranged  the  words  for  It,  and  when  she  was 
a  child  in  his  family,  she  learned  it.     '  Listen,"  said  she,  "  what  is 
that?" 

It  was  Jack.5on  playing  on  the  key-bugle.     Oh,  how  gloriously 
it  sounded,  as  its  notes  fell  on  the  oar,  mellowed  and  softened  by 
the  distance.     When  Englishmen  talk  of  the  hunters'  horn  in  the 
morning,  they  don't  kncnv  what  they  are  a  saying  of     It's  well 
enough  I  do  suppose  in  the  field,  as  it  wakes  the  drowsy  sports- 
man, aii<l  vominds  him  that  there  is  a  hard  day's  ride  before  him 
But  the  lake  and  the  forest  is  nature's  amphitheatre,  and  it  is  at 
home  there.     It  won't  speak  as  it  can  do  at  all  times  and  in  all 
places ;  but  it  gives  its  whole  sOul  out  in  the  woods ;  and  the 
echoes  love  it,  and  the  mountains  wave  their  plumes  of  pines  to  it 
as  if  they  wanted  to  be  wooed  by  its  clear,  sweet,  powerful  notes* 
All  nature  listens  to  it,  and  keeps  silence,  while  it  lifts  its  voice  on 
high.     Ihe  breeze  wafts  its  music  on  its  wings,  as  if  proud  of  its 
trust;  and  the  lake  lies  still,  and  pants  like  a  thing  of  life  as  if  its 
heart  beat  to  its  tones.     The  birds  are  all  hushed,  as  if  ifraid  to 
disturb  It;  and  the  deer  pause,  and  listen,  and  gaze  on  the  skies 
as  if  the  music  came  from  Heaven.     Money  only  can  move  some 
men  and  a  white  heat  alone  dissolve  stones.     But  he  who  has  ever 
heard  the  bugle,  and  is  not  inspired  by  it,  has  no  divinity  within 
Jura.     Ihe  body  is  there,  but  the  soul  is  wanting. 

t  J  ,'f^'%'"/'^^*^'l  passage,  and  some  other  similar  ones,  are  extremely  charac- 
teristic of  Americans  in  the  same  station  of  life  as  Slick.  From  tN-  useol^ 
superlative  expressions  in  their  conversation,  tliev  natnr.H,,  a-^^-t  ■>-  '-~^~Z 
ffn  n7/*i^''?-'"'^"K'"r'/"'!  f'»«  "»"or  poets  and  provincial  OT^torsof  the  Rppu^t 
he  are  dis  inguished  for  this  hy,,erbolical  tone'  In  Great  Britain  tlev  would 
be  admired  by  the  Irish;  on  the  Continent,  by  the  Ga.scon«.  IfMr/sHckwce 
-"^driSe^fln'olher^"^^^  '''^'''''  ^°  ^""'^  ''  among  the  fi.t  10'= 


A     DAY     ON     THE    LAKE. 


147 


!ed  at  theif 

f>ed  me  the 
most  agree- 
hat  seemed 
•vcly  scene. 

over  their 
I  thcijforo 

and  thcjr 
suiting  the 
>us.ly  to  its 
iitreaties  to 
istening  to 
was  much 
;r  own  inn 

Indian,  ,'w 
en  she  was 
,  "  what  is 

gloriously 
)l"tcned  by 
lorn  in  the 
It's  well 
^sy  sports- 
efore  hiin. 
id  it  is  at 
md  in  all 
;  and  the 
lines  to  it, 
^ul  notes.* 
s  voice  on 
oud  of  its 
'e,  as  if  its 
afraid  to 
the  skies, 
lOve  some 
)  has  ever 
ity  within 


lely  charftc* 
th'!  use  of 
an  exngge- 
the  Repub- 
they  would 
Slick  were 
it  to  doloct 


"  Go  on,  Jackson,  I  will  forgive  your  twaddle  about  Sargent 
M'Ciure,  the  stroke  of  the  sun,  the  trooper's  helmet,  and  the  night 
among  the  wolves.  I  will  listen  to  your  old  soldier's  stories  all 
night,  only  go  on,  and  play  for  me.  Give,  me  that  simple  air 
again.  Let  me  drink  it  in  with  my  ears,  till  my  heart  is  full.  No 
grace  notes,  no  tricks  of  the  band-master's,  no  flourishes ;  let  it  bo 
simple  and  natural.  Let  it  suit  us,  and  the  place  we  are  in,  for  it 
is  the  voice  of  our  common  parent,  nature."  Ah,  he  didn't  hear 
me,  and  he  ceased. 

"  Jessie,  dear,  ain't  that  beautiful  1 "  said  I. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  (and  she  clasped  her  hands  hard,)  "  it  is  like  the 
sound  cf  a  spirit  speaking  from  above." 

"  Imitate  it,"  said  I. 

She  knew  the  air,  it  was  a  Scotch  one ;  and  their  music  is  ih^ 
most  touching,  because  the  most  simple,  I  know. 

Squire,  you  will  th-nk  I  am  getting  spooney,  but  I  ain't.  You 
know  how  fond  I  am  of  nature,  and  always  was ;  but  I  suppose  you 
will  think  if  I  ain't  talking  Turkey,  that  1  am  getting  crankey,  when 
I  tell  you  an  idea  that  came  into  my  mind  just  then.  She  imitated 
it  in  the  most  perfect  manner  possible,  iter  clear,  sweet,  mellow, 
but  powerful  notes,  never  charmed  me  so  before.  I  thought  it 
sounded  like  a  maiden,  answering  her  lover.  One  was  a  masculine, 
tlie  other  a  icmale  voice.  The  only  difference  was  in  the  force,  but 
softness  was  (  mmon  to  both.  Can  I  ever  forget  the  enchantment 
of  that  day  ? 

"  Dear  Jessie,"  said  I,  "  you  and  your  friend  are  just  formed  for 
each  other.     How  happy  you  could  make  him." 

*•  Whof  said  she,  and  there  was  no  affectation  in  the  question. 
She  knew  not  the  import  of  that  word.     "  What  do  you  mean  J" 

"  Hush,"  said  1,  "  I  will  tell  you  by  and  bye.  Old  Tom  is  piay- 
iug  again." 

it  was  "  Auld  Lang  Syne."  How  touching  it  was.  jt  brought 
tears  to  Jessie's  eyes.  She  had  learned  it,  when  a  child,  far,  far 
away ;  and  it  recalled  her  tribe,  her  childhood,  her  country,  and 
her  mother.  I  could  see  these  thoughts  throw  their  shadows  over 
her  flice,  as  light  clouds  chase  each  other  before  the  sun,  and  throw 
their  veil,  as  they  course  along  the  sky,  over  the  glowing  landscape. 
It  made  me  feel  sad,  too ;  for  how  many  of  them,  with  whom  my 
early  years  were  spent,  have  passed  away.  Of  all  the  fruit  born 
by  the  tree  of  life,  how  small  a  portion  drops  from  it,  when  fully 
ripe,  and  in  the  due  course  of  nature.  The  worm,  and  premature 
decay,  are  continually  thinning  them ;  and  the  tempest  and  the 
blight  destroy  the  greater  part  of  those  that  are  left,  i'oor  dear 
worthy  old  minister,  you,  too,  are  gone,  but  not  forgotten.  How 
could  I  have  had  these  thoughts'?  How  could  I  have  enjoyed 
these  scenes  ?  and  how  described  them  ?  but  for  you !     Innocent, 


148 


A     DAY     ON 


THE     LAKE. 


',  » 


pure,  and  simple-minded  man,  how  fond  you  were  of  nafn,.n   *i. 

always  to  have  remained  one.     Yes,  yes  I  instruction, 

"  Why  should  auld  acquaintance  be  foTsot, 
And  never  brought  to  mind  ?  " 

Why?  indeed. 

very  coot  but  it  don't  slir  up  to  blood    ../  'J^t^yia  kJ'Z  » 

sne  Has  done  with  her  brass  cow  horn,  she  will  irive  it  to  v™,      u 
can  wake  the  toad  that  air.     When  she  w«  „  „•       i?  ^        . 

SeTer raif:  'J-pemardTtre^^  pf  er^f  M^ 

nor  ^X:'z:i:zi:^^^vixz'\^  '^%?' 

;Tiy':h:j;n'  "■'  *™  "^^  """^  ''^'•™  --"  --  ^^1 1' 
bia:&  Xrd'^hf tio'^t'^rptJ/rj  ^'^zt-'-iv- 

the  first  and  last  time  Peter  McDonlwpt«.  .        71'  """^^ ''  '^^^ 

S;^no.L^t:r-if.TSF'— 

neitir;  a,  fif  ^he  were  Uh  ^  '  '    . ,''''  ^'•''"k,  and  she  aint 

tune,  iarrls  «»  tovL  ,s  sh  °  id  r.n» ™^^^  "t  '  '""  ''?  "'*  "" 

"Now,"  said  1,  "lk"L  td  theCse^™"'"'  '"'  ^'^  "'"■" 


A.    DAT     OK    THB    LAKE. 


149 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A   DAY   ON   THE   TAKE,  PART  II 

Peter's  horrid  pipes  knocked  all  1  lie  romance  out  of  me.  It  took 
all  the  talk  of  dear  old  Minister,  (whose  conversation  wus  often  like 
poetry  without  rhyme,)  till  I  was  of  age,  to  instil  it  into  me.  If  it 
hadn't  been  for  him  I  should  have  been  a  mere  practical   man. 


lucky 

the  relish  for  the  real  business  of  life. 

Mother,  when  I  was  a  boy,  used  to  coax  me  up  so  everlastingly 
with  loaf-cake,  I  declare  I  got  such  a  sweet  tooth  I  could  hardly  eat 
plain  bread  made  of  flour  and  corn  meal,  although  it  was  the  whole- 
8omest  of  the  two.  When  I  used  to  tell  Minister  this  sometimes, 
as  he  was  flying  off*  the  handle,  like  when  we  travelled  through 
New  Y'ork  str^te  to  Niagara,  at  the  scenery  of  the  Hudson,  or  Lake 
George,  or  that  everlastin  water-fall,  he'd  say : 

"  Sam,  you  are  as  correct  a  problem  in  Euclid,  but  as  cold 
and  dry.  Business  and  romance  are  like  oil  and  water  that  I  use 
for  a  night-lamp,  with  a  little  cork  dipsey.  They  oughtn't  to  be 
mixed,  but  each  to  be  separate,  or  they  spoil  each  other.  The  turn- 
bier  should  be  nearly  full  of  water,  then  pour  a  little  oil  on  the 
top,  and  put  in  your  tiny  wick  and  floater,  and  igaite  it.  The 
water  goes  to  the  bottom — that's  business  you  see,  solid  and 
heavy.  Tho  oil  and  its  burner  lies  on  the  top,  and  that's  romance. 
It's  a  living  flame,  not  enough  iu  iiiuminate  the  room,  but  to  cheer 
you  through"  the  night,  and  if  you  want  more,  it  will  light  stronger 
ones  ibr  you.  People  have  a  wrong  idea  of  romance,  Sam.  Pro- 
perly understood,  it's  a  right  keen,  lively  appreciation  of  the  works 
of  nature,  and  its  beauty,  wonders,  and  sublimity.  From  thence 
we  learn  to  fear,  to  serve,  and  to  adore  Him  that  made  them  and 
us.  Now,  Sam,"  you  understand  all  the  wheels,  and  pullies,  and 
balances  of  your  wooden  cIocks  ;  but  you  don't  think  anything 
more  of  them,  than  it's  a  grand  speculation  for  you,  because  they 
cost  you  a  mere  nothing,  seeing  they  are  made  out  of  tha^  vhich 
is  as  cheap  as  dirt  here,  and  because  you  make  a  great  proiiu  out 
of  them  among  the  benighted  colonists,  who  know  little  themselves, 

-■}  guvenieu  oy  xiiiigusu  uiwciuis,  wuu  nuun  smx  acss.      tt  vii, 

nateral.  for  it  is  a  busines 


aiiu 


view 


o^ 


sposen 


•  It  i«  manifest  Mr.  Hopewell  must  have  had  Paley's  illustration  in  his  mind. 


160 


A    DAT    0  K 


THE    LAKE, 


one  of  them  that  was  as  true  t  it  '  ^"J  f"*  ^^"''  «.^««  ^n 
into  enthusiasm  abou/'  and  ;h  J  ^  ^1"'/'?^^". '  ^'^'^  ^'"^^k  out 
knowledge  of  the  Yankee  m.nth^-  ^'^'  f'^'^^  ^^«  ^l^'"  «"d 

sure  you  would      Wouldn"'^^  "'''"^'i  ""^  '"^^^°  ^^  ?     '^o  be 

the  pine.  Xe  d^lylt  and^^n^ l'"^^'"'"  contemplatin'  of 
Wouldn't  you  go  on  f^rS  no  nt?n?  ?  '"'"'"''"^  ^'*  «^"^t? 
be  the  wisdomlid  preTof  iC  who  ?  'f  -^""''"'^  ^^'^'^^  "»"^t 
and  caused  them  tHbrm  i!!'  r  ''° '""^'^^  "Numerable  worlds, 
:iarmonious  system  an jflv^o(?fh.  h  ^T'  ^''""^'  n^-gni'icent,  and 
ration,  and  aL  ?  "Cbe'^s.f  t '!"!  ^/  ^^  >-'  -''  ^^  in  a'dmi. 


ration.  a.Ki  awe  ?  t^  1;^.;:  ^^^  ^^^j'  -''  '^  "^  admi. 
you  was  full  of  romance  who  heard  vou  woubln'  "7^"'^^  '^''^''^ 
Ji's  Ignorance,  and  said  there  are  o.h'^.r  1'.^  '  ^''"  ^^^^  P'^'^d 

of  besides  co/'poreal  onesV-Wou^nTv  "'''{"'""''  '^'^  "^«  ^^P^ble 
man  ?  Don'tVou  go  now  for  to  1  ^""^  ^'  ^  ^''''  ^"^  '^  ^^^^r 
do,  I  shall  think  you  don^t  know  her^'T''  T'''''^  ^""^5  ^^  y«" 
and  so  he  would  preach  on  ft r  an  hour  ^11%;^"''^^^^^^"  ^'^"'" 
for  him  to  say  Amen  and  i/ivp^LT  '  •  '^thought  it  was  time 
Well,  that's  fh«  SI      ,£!!.^^^.^'f"^^^«^^  benediction. 


«vas 


Well,  that-;  the  way     0?;;  bv  i^  benediction. 

is  always  a  hard  subiect  to  fn  i,  oV  '^^,V"°«"^ated  for  it,  but  I 
mo  over  and  over  agak  bv  ?he  doet '"b  J^'^r'T  """"  ''''^  "" 
it  came,  and  got  inTo  the  sttem  So  i^'  ^  '""'W  ^"'  ''  ^''' 
romance,  it  was  only  the  continn^'^...  •  Tf  '''^^  ^'"^  ^"^  his 
last,  for  I  didn't  listen  as  J  ouX  o  r^^'"''  *^^^  Y""''^  '^'  «*^"e  at 
me  where  I  could  have  d5  ^^^i,^^''''^  '  '''"■  ^^  "^  had  showed 
^^'ide  awake,  I  know  for  I  ^ct  onf  t  t'  ^''  r^"^^  ^'^'  f'*""^  me 
ahead,  and  J  have  LVd  now  F  1  n'/'^'^  ^  determination  togo 
a  minded  more  what  he  dM  saC  T''"  '"^  t.'  ^"'  ''^^  ^  ^'^^  I  had 
^in  opportunity  Jostisl^e  mlJ^    ^^'^  °^^  '^"^'  ^«  ^^  ^«^d  now. 

co/vy  ,jou  to  the  end      A  Lnrf  .,     I    1         ■   ^''^  ^^'^^  »^'"^  ^nay 
yn^r  chance  of  a  Z,  tZi  TeiiT'  """  '"'  ™«-      ^'  »« 

romance  in  mv  sails  anrt  P„t„   u     ,   ■       "°  *  '""S  ''m«  ">  get 
i"  the  wind.    'So  w^' "em  to  l^k"    Th  ""'  "'■"'^"''  ''■'  ""^  ^^iver 

^^*ts  an.  „.e  Ji'is  f  rCt  fnf  Sar;----/^ 

1-tThLr  fhyra^iifi;"!^  r  r^""^^  'r  ?-'^ "-"  *«  "•" 

irrpm,loni,,,|ji-...       "J'^^iy  time   to  examine  beforfi.     \t  «...«  „,, 
required.     Th«r«"l  LSl^'  ""'..""^^^  accommodation 


neither  uniformity  nor  de 


sign  in  it, .  nd  it 


A    DAT     ON     TIIU     LAK«, 


161 


ies,  and  nerer 
your  eyes  on 
>u  break  out 
the  skill  and 
3  it  ?  To  be 
emplatin'  of 
5s  so  exact? 
f*  what  must 
■able  worlds, 
[nilicent,  and 

it,  in  admi. 
nyhody  said 

have  pitied 

are  capable 
and  a  better 
am;  if  you 
ithin  you," 
it  was  time 
ti. 

3r  it,  but  I 
as  tried  on 
but  at  last 
ini  and  his 
he  stone  at 
lad  showed 

found  me 
ation  logo 
wish  I  had 
dead  now. 
'lance  may 
wind  may 
To  mins 

ct  half  of 
ne  to  get 
)ne  shiver 
on  shore, 

than  the 
■  ith  their 

our  din- 

ok  to  the 
was  an 
ave  been 
lad  been 
t,  .  nd  it 


mijrht  rather  be  called  a  small  cluster  of  little  tenements  than  a 
house.  Two  of  these  structures  alone,  seemed  to  corr'.spond  in 
a[)pcarance  and  size.  They  protruded  in  front,  from  each  end  of 
the  main  building,  forming  with  it  three  sides  of  a  square.  One 
of  these  was  appropriated  to  the  purposes  of  a  museum,  and  the 
other  used  as  a  workshop.  The  former  contained  an  exceedingly 
interesting  collection. 

"This  room,"  he  said,  "I  cannot  intrust  to  Jackson,  who  would 
soon  thro.:  everything  into  confusion  by  grou'^'ng,  instead  of 
classifying  things.  This  country  is  ful'  of  most  valuable  minerals, 
and  the  people  know  as  much  about  lem,  as  a  pudding  does  of 
the  plums  contained  in  it.  Observe  this  shelf,  Sir,  there  are 
specimens  of  seven  ditferent  kinds  of  copper  on  it ;  and  on  this 
one  fragments  of  four  kinds  lead.  In  the  argentiferous  galena 
is  a  very  considerable  proportion  of  silver.  Here  is  a  piece  of  a 
mineral  called  molybdena  of  singular  beauty,  I  found  itatGaberoua 
Bay,  in  Cape  Breton.  The  iron  ores  you  see  are  of  great  variety. 
The  coal-fields  of  this  colvj..^  are  immense  in  extent,  and  incal- 
culable in  value.  All  this  case  is  filled  with  their  several  varieties. 
These  pre  ious  stones  are  from  the  Bay  of  Funday.  Among  them 
are  amethyst  and  other  varieties  of  crystal,  of  quartz,  henlandite, 
stlbite,  analcine,  chabasie,  albite,  mesotype,  silicious  sinter,  and  so 
on.  Pray  do  me  the  favor  to  accept  this  amethyst.  I  have  several 
others  of  equal  size  and  beauty,  and  it  is  of  no  use  to  me." 

He  also  presented  'Sutler  with  a  splendid  piece  of  nesotype  or 
needle  stone,  which  ue  begged  him  to  keep  as  a  memento  of  the 
"  Bachelor  Beaver's  j^.im." 

*'  Three  things,  Mr.  Slick,"  he  continued,  "  arc  necessary  to  the 
deve'  pment  of  the  mineral  wealth  of  this  province — skill,  capital, 
and  population ;  and  depend  upon  it  the  day  is  not  far  distant 
when  this  magnificent  colony  will  support  the  largest  population, 
for  its  area,  in  America." 

I  am  not  a  mineralogist  myself,  Squire,  and  much  of  what  he 
said  was  heathen  Greek  to  me,  but  some  general  things  I  could 
understand,  and  remember  such  as  that  there  are  (to  say  nothing 
of  smaller  ones)  four  immense  independent  coal-fields  in  the 
eastern  section  of  Nova  Scotia :  namely  at  Picton,  Pomquet, 
Cumberland,  and  Londonderry  ;  the  first  of  which  covers  an  area 
of  one  hundred  square  miles,  and  that  there  are  also  at  Cape 
Breton  two  other  enormous  fields  of  the  same  mineral,  one  cover- 
ing  one  hundred  and  <-Aventy  square  miles,  and  presenting  at  Lingan 
a  vein  eleven  feet  thick.  Such  facts  I  could  comprehend,  and  I 
■w'ao  of)i-v\r  v,'hen  I  heard  the  bu^de  announcinn  that  the  boat  had 
returned  for  us. 

"Jessie,"  said  the  Doctor,  "here  is  a  little  case  containing  a 

ciously  fashioned  and  exquisitely  worked  ring,  and  a  large  gold 


MdL'i 


.1 

■I 

li 


162 


ii  JT^ir.i 


i.t 


-.      ill 


•ij;      **  .1 


A     DAY 


ON    THE     LAKE 


•      SeIS"iot^t^^^^^  the  .ins  of 

features;  they  wiH  s«rve  mCa  o  T  ^'  '"'^  ^^^'"^  ^"^  «old 
require  the  id  of  art,  to  adorn  1  '^  '^''''^"^  ^"'^^  ^'^^^^  ^^u 
lovely."  '  ^"^  ^"^^"^  *  P'^rson  nature  has  made  so 

"  Hallo  !"sais  I  to  mvspir  "^n-^u  j  t^ 

beat  coek.fighti„g,  then  7e  e  1  i„rno  f„°2si°"*"'  ""  "'^',  ^™'' 
Oh !  you  ain't  so  soft  as  you  look  to  hT.n  ,  ""S™">'' '  "o*- 
ch  Id  of  nature,  but  that  hJs  its  ow„  secrets  a„7  '  ^"l  ""^  '^'^  ^ 
out  It's  ni).stories  it's  a  pity  "  =«<='«".  and  i  you  haint  found 

or^^^^^^'Z!^'tf:^^f-^<  "  ^-"^  *^^  -rosion 
was  serving  God  by  voluTifaHlv  1°^'''''  •'"'^^  ^'"'"^^^  ^^^^^^t  she 
which  he  hLelf  ha^  Ltt  W  ^^,  J*^^^^^^^^  into 

had  expressly  ordained  she  should  f.dffl  "T"?  .^"^'^'  ^"^^^^  ^^ 
of  the  cross ;  it  u  the  emblpm  nf  1  1-  •  -^'''"  *  '^^'"''^  ""^  ^he  si^ht 
claim  it  exch,sively,  as  ff    Lth^^^^^^^^ 

only.  This  one  has  hi  Lrto  bopn  f"?^-  ^"x.  ^^'  ^'^^  ^"^^  them 
humanafrections,mayi     hed^W^^^^^^  '?^  '^'  "^^'-^^^^^  ^^ '•^U 

1  could  hardly' believe  my  ears  1  I^?!  '^''  '""'T'  ^^^'^^^s." 
knew  he  was  romantic  and  all  h.V  .  ^^*^Vr  f^'"^  *^'"  ^^  ^^'^'  I 
-ch  a  de.th  and  strength  o^LlhS 'i .'it'  '^'  "^^  ^^^'^  ^1--  was 

wouldW^sein";''  i:^!^!'^:^^^' ^^^  >->  doctor,  ^^ 
thing,  and  a  counterfeit,  hat  'i^^ltSV^^  '^T\^''^  of  the  genuine 
and  wink."  '      ^  '"'^''^  ^'^^'^  "^ade  liim  open  his  eyes 

n.ale'^metth/of  l\\;i^C,,"^r'  ^'^'^^.'^  «  good  feliow,  don't 
Jessie  could  either  accept  oTdecltr.,^''''  cases  r' and  before 
nianaged  to  lead  the  w^To  The  Tat  Th"  '1  ^'^  ^^^"^"^t''^'  ^^^ 
m  the  canoe,  and  the  res  of  the  pttv  in%f "^?  «nd  I  en.barked 
stepped  into  the  bark  1  hid  Lr!J  I^  ^''';  ^''''^'  ^"^  before  I 
the  moose,  very  much  to   L  n^  ^^      ""^  ^^*''  ^'^'^'"^  the  bodv  of 

who  both  seem^dt  a..^ f:rmrir'  •^''"^"  ""'''  '""^  ""^'^^^ 
bugle.  ^^®  "^'"^  "^^  i»  g'vmg  a  preference  to  the 

i  never  saw  so  iovelv  a  «!nr,f  ;»,  ^u- 
cnosen  for  our  repLt  but  it  I  .  ^'l  '"""''^  *^^  ^^^^  «»«  we  l.ad 
the  preparations  fo?  our  m^al  were  aU  f,7  ^"^^^^^^^  *«  land  until 
as  Jane  leaped  ashore,  I  o'cfk  JT^U  ^"^^"\^ompleted  ;  so  as  soon 
another  look  at  the  lake  v  h  me  ^n  '"'^  ""f"''^  ^^^^'^  ^o  take 
with  his  bugle  when  remnml   Z  .'T'"»  i'''^''''''  to  reoal  us 

Jake  fc^  about  halL-mTl""''  TrlT  ^^  "^  ^'^T  "^^^  ^^^^  °^'  ^^e 
enormous  birches  bend"'ovor\£  I  •  ^  ^''"^  observed  two 
«.«.na.eiy  doomed  to  U;:'  tt  c^rS^t  Cd  Zl'^  t^S 


A     DAY     ON    tHE     LAKE 


163 


land  where  they  stood,  so  as  to  leave  them  only  a  temporary 
resting  place.  Into  this  arched  and  quiet  retreat  we  impelled  our 
canoe,  and  paused  for  a  while  to  enjoy  its  cool  and  refreshing 
shade. 

"  Jessie,"  said  I,  "  this  time  to-morrovy  I  shall  be  on  the  sea 

again." 

"So  soonl"  she  replied. 

"  Yes,  dear  ;  business  calls  us  away,  and  life  is  not  all  like  a  day 
on  the  lake." 

"  No,  no,"  she  said,  "  not  to  me ;  it  is  the  only  really  Iiappy 
one  I  have  spent  since  I  left  my  country.  You  have  all  been  so 
kind  to  me;  you,  the  Captain,  and  the  Doctor,  all  of  you,  you 
have  made  no  difference,  you  have  treated  me  as  if  I  was  one  of 
you,  as  if  I  was  born  a  lady." 

"  Hasn't  the  Doctoi  always  been  kind  to  you  V*  I  said. 

"  Oh  yes,"  she  replied,  "  always  very  kind,  but  there  is  nobody 
here  like  him." 

"  He  loves  you  very  much." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  in  the  most  unembarrassed  and  natural  manner 
possible,  "  he  told  me  so  himself." 

"  And  cau't  you  return  nis  love  ?" 

"  I  do  love  him  as  I  do  my  father,  brother,  or  sister." 

"  Couldn't  you  add  the  word  husband "?" 

"  Never,  n(jver,"  she  said,  "  Mr.  Slick.  He  thinks  he  loves  me 
now,  but  he  may  not  think  so  always.  He  don't  see  the  red  blood 
now — he  don't  think  of  my  Indian  mother  ;  when  he  comes  nearer, 
perhaps  he  will  see  plainer.  No,  no,  half-cast  and  out-cast,  I  be- 
long to  no  race.  Shall  I  go  back  to  my  tribe  and  give  up  my 
father  and  his  people  1  they  will  not  receive  me,  and  I  must  fall 
asleep  with  my  mother.     Shall  I  stay  here  and  cling  to  him  and 

his  race that  race  that  scorns  the  half-savage? — never!  never! 

when  he  dies,  I  shall  die  too.     I  shall  have  no  home  then  but  the 
home  of  the  spirits  of  the  dead." 

"Don't  talk  that  way,  Jessie,"  I  said;  "you   make  yourself 

wretched,  because  you  don't  see  things  as  they  are.     It's  your  own 

fault  if  you  are  not  happy.     You  say  you  have  enjoyed  this  day." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  "  no  day  like  this ;  it  never  came  before,  it 

don't  return  again.     It  dies  to-night,  but  will  never  be  forgotten." 

"Why  not  live  where  you  are?  Why  not  have  your  home 
here  by  this  lake,  and  this  mountain  1  His  tastes  are  like  yours, 
and  yours  like  his;  you  can  live  two  lives  here— the  forest  of  the 
red  man  around  you— the  roof  of  the  white  one  above  you.  To 
unite  both  is  true  enjovment ;  there  is  no  eye  to  stare  here,  no 
pride  to  exclude,  no  tongue  to  offend.  You  need  not  seek  the 
society  of  others,  let  them  solicit  yours,  and  the  Doctor  will  make 
them  respect  it." 
7" 


164 


A     DAT     ON 


THE     LAKE. 


J'our  mlvicc,  and  feel,  th.^oTsZ^^lud  -1      t  fH'''  "'"'  ''<«"■' 
reaches  not  her  heart.  "  "'  ■""  ""^  consolation 

reJi^ni^"!^;:;;:^,^:;^:^^.;;  St:^'^:;^  T'^^'  -  ^^  «he  was 
it.  If  there  is  one  God  J  L  th  ?  ^  '  T  ^"^^  ^"^  "''^^uro  forbids 
it.  If  there  are  t^o  gtlrspits  one'?or"'  l^'''  "'•^"'  ^^  ^^'''''^ 
me,  then  both  forbid^'t  Th;  ^LT^  TJ'  u'  ""^  ''''''^''  '^^^^ 
continued,    "is   a  wicked   nn!  ^'"'^^^P'^-'t  of  the  pale  face,"  she 

Whereve;  he  goes,  h  tin"   death  and' /^'^^   """^   ''^  ^^^'^^'^ 
recede  before  him  -the  w  d  fowli  ^"^^^^^ruction.     The  woods 

their  streams-the  ^r::^^:^'::::  ^'^"7  ^-'^^  "^'  '^^^^ 
beaver,  and  his  game,  (for  thev  a?e  all  h\l  a  ^"  ^'"^  ^"^  ^is 
for  food  and  for  cloth  nl)  and  {rrelti^/-  """^  '""'"  S^^^"  ^«  ^im 
graves  and  the  bones  Sf  his  Dlnlo  1  \'  5'  .^•''^"'''  ^"^  ^"'"^^'^^  ^'^« 
man  pursues  him,  day  and  n  thf  wi  h  h  "^  ^Tl  '^"^  '^'  ^^^ite 
^ater,  and  what  he  spares  wtl'  tTe  Hfll'  ^""  '".^  ^''  ^^^  ''^"'^  ^^e- 
tion  destroy.  See  "  si  e  sVd  nnr  V  1'  T"";  ^"'P''^''''  «"d  «tarva- 
from  a  shumack  thk  wept'^^^^^^^^^^^  '  ^'^hered  red  cone 

thp  blood  of  the  red  man."  '^'''" '     ''^'  '^^^  '^  d^^d  with 

II  That  is  prejudice,"  I  said. 

have  rloved  ttL'^f'luta!"''     "i  ^"""  '*'     ^^  P-^Pie 
to  the  sea  or  the  grave  "  ™'''  '"^  ^^^°  "^^<^  "^^^e  will  'be 

"That  don't  alter  things  "  I  siid  « if  .v  •     iw 
(and  there  is  too  much  rf  a  itv  hn;  if   \''  'V^  ^'"^  ^^''^^^  ^^u  say, 
not  all  bad,  nor  the  red  all  <food      It  d     '?  ^  b"t  the  pale  faces  are 

"  No,"  she  said,  -  na  u'-e  Cbid,  tU  7  ^  ^^^'^  *^  ^«"''  «^«^-" 
that  is  wild,  continuef  wi  d  a^d  .t  111^''  ''  "^'"^'^-  That 
dog  watches  his  sleepincr  master  .ndfh  //f'"'"'  ^^'"«-  The 
>vild  duck  scorns  confn  «  '  dfh  T^^'J ^^^^"'•^  him.  The 
to  dwell  with  domestic  S  '  ZikJT'\'  ^f'  '^  ^^n^Pellcd 
^she  threw  a  chip  amonr  a  fl;nl.  nf  '^^'^  ^"'^''    ^^^  ^^  as 

the  lake;  'Mf  tfe  Sif' Un  ian  11'^.^'^  ""'^  ^^^^'"^^  ^o-" 
them,   the  progeny  die  out      Thol  '^  ''''"^''^''^^  ^'^h  one  of 

the  grace,  tL  sLp^or  tL  eou^a^^orelth'r  "^Th^  ^  t^  '^^:^^^.  "°^ 
They  soon  disaone^ir  fm.n   th'  ?  -     ^  .^^'-     "^^'^'^  ^^^^  is  fixed. 

xhe,  a-o  despised  b,  both  b;;d:r':nd":hr:foorhet!t„7a:if 


A     DAY     ON    THB     LAKE 


156 


she  scorned  and  loathed  herself,  and  burst  into  a  passionate  flood 

of  tears.  ,  .      . 

"  J  essie,"  said  I,  and  I  paused  a  moment,  for  I  wanted  to  give 
her  a  homoeopathic  dose  of  common  sense — and  those  little  wee 
doses  work  like  charms,  that's  a  ftict.  "Jessie,"  sais  I,  and  I 
smiled,  for  I  wanted  her  to  shake  off  those  voluntary  trammels, — 
"Jessie,  the  Doctor  aint  quite  tame,  and  you  aint  quite  wild. 
You  are  both  six  of  one,  and  half-a-dozen  of  the  other,  and  just 
about  as  like  as  two  peas." 

Well,  it's  astonishing  what  that  little  sentence  did !  An  ounce 
of  essence  is  worth  a  gallon  of  fluid.  A  toise  saw  is  more  valuable 
than  a  whole  book,  and  a  plain  truth  is  better  than  an  argument. 
She  had  no  answer  for  that.  She  had  been  reasoning  without 
knowing  it,  as  if  in  fact  she  had  been  in  reality  an  Indian.  She 
had  imbibed  in  childhood  the  feelings  of  her  mother,  who  had 
taken  the  first  step  and  repented  it— of  one  who  had  deserted  but 
had  not  been  adopted — who  became  an  exile  and  remained  an  alien 
—who  had  bartered  her  birthright  for  degradation  and  death.  It 
is  natural  that  regret  for  the  past,  and  despair  for  the  future, 
should  have  been  the  burden  of  the  mournful  ditties  of  such  a 
woman ;  that  she  who  had  mated  without  love,  and  lived  without 
affection,  the  slave,  the  drudge,  but  not  the  wife  or  companion  of 
her  master,  should  die  with  imprecations  on  her  lips  for  a  race  who 
were  the  natural  foes  of  her  people,  and  who  had  reduced  her  to 
be  an  object  of  scorn  and  contempt  to  both.  It  is  no  wonder, 
therefore,  poor  Jessie  had  a  repugnance  to  the  union,  when  she 
remembered  her  mother,  and  the  sad  lesson  her  imhappy  life  and 
fearful  death  contained.     It  was  a  feeling  difficult  to  overcome. 

"Jessie,"  sais  I,  "  nature,  instead  of  forbiddin'  it,  approves  of  it ; 
for  like  takes  to  like.     I  don't  say  it  to  please  you,  but  you  are  as 
good  as  he  is,  or  any  white  man  in  the  world.     Your  forefathers, 
on  your  mother's  side,  are  a  brave,  manly,  intelligent  race ;  they 
are  free  men,  and  have  never  been  subdued  or  enslaved  by  any 
one;  and  if  they  have  degenerated  at  all,  it  is  because  they  have 
contracted,  as   you  say,  vices  from  the  white  man.     You  have 
reason  to  be  proud  of  being  descended  from  a  race  of  warriors. 
On  the  other  hand,  your  father  is  a  Highlander,  and  they  too  have 
always  been  free,  because  they  were  brave ;  they  are  the  noblest 
fellows  m  Europe.    As  for  the  English,  there  are  none  now,  except 
in  Wales,  and  they  are  called  Taffies— which  means  lunatics-— for 
they  are  awful  proud,  and  their  mountains  are  so  high,  every  fellow 
says  his  ancestors  were  descended  from  the  man  in  the  7noon.    But 
the  present  race  are  a  mixture  of  Taffies,  French,  Danes,  Saxons, 
Scotch,  and  the  Lord  knows  who  all,  and  to  my  miud  arc  ali  tue 
better  of  it." 

"  But  the  color,"  said  she. 


« 


156 


f 
I 


II 


'i>i 

';||| 


I 


$  ■ 


A    DAT    ON    THE    LAKE. 


tlian   the  I„d  a„    if  anvM,^f  ^  q'"'  '^^f "''  ^"^  ^-^"^J^^"'  ^^e  darker 
same."  '        ^"ythmg-Spaniards  and  Greeks   about  the 

"And  do  they  intermarry  ?" 

^^opl  ZTJ:'j:Zri'o  xt  ''^r'^  ^^^^"^-^^-  only 

each  other-but  color  never ''  ''  ''^'"  '^°"  '^"^'^  undmtand 

J^I^s  that  now  real],  truer  she  said,  "forlam  ignorant  of  the 

must  bf;  o"|C  I'am  unir''.  T'-  T^  ^^^  d^^'-ntly,  I 
own  feelings  •  and  rr  -  ^..l?     ?  T*'^  '"'^^  everything,  but  my 

to  trust  a  fhite  man"      am  ^  ^       "'  '"''  "V'  '^'^  ^^  "-- 
right  I  am  sure  I  sl^ll  ieTap^|,'?'  '  "^^  "^^"^^'  ^^^  ^^  ^  '^^^  ^  am 

place,  aboveTl  o\;iTnr  Cid'that'  'l\  "'  ^''^  ^^  -'-^  ^^- 
you  so.  Now,"  sais  J  'Ves?ie  I  illl  ^,i  "  '"''  y^"'  ^"'^  "^^ke 
her  the  whole  ale  of  PocahonL  hn  ^^"  •\'*^'^"'"  ^"^  ^  ^old 
life  in  the  early  settlement  of ^  •  '^^  T'^  ^^P^^'""  Smith's 
Mr.  Rolfe,  and  4  ted  Te  I't  oT'^'f'  'T^  f^^^^^ards  married 

sought  her  society.     And  Zuiav^^^^  ^"  ^^«  "^'^I^^ 

life,  illness,  and  death  and  IntolS^  ^"l^^^J^^P'^^rticulars  of  her 

the  same  r'elation  h  p'  S^  the  whTes  J  ^'.^f  u'""'  ^^^^  ^^^^^  "^ 
planter  in  Virginia,  a^id  that  oL  of  I  /  "^'^  ^''^'^"  ^  ^•^''^'% 
was  one  of  th?  moW  eloqu  nt  as  well  ^r^^^^^l^^^ately  deceased, 
guished  men  in  the  United  Stated  if  f  """"  ?  u*^"  "^^^^  ^'^t'"' 
and  I   have  no  doubt  gr^^^^^^^^  ^f  uncommonly, 

decision  she  had  come  to    T vvil]  .    f?     u,  ^^  ''''"^™  ^^^  "^  the 
story,  for  it  Js  so  romantic  I  ll  •  ''''"^^'  ^°"'  ^^"''•e'  ^ith  the 

promised  to  giye  her  a  b^ok  cnnr''  ^^'^'^^^^^  ^^^^  ^«ard  of  it.    1 
Th«  r      1   ^  a  Dook  containuiff  a  1  the  do«--iilQ 

exercise,  excitreX^,rSs?aT;„'r^' T'*  »  Wetite  te 

wheTi  the  su  ,  be»an  to?,.?®r„  {  ""eup.ed  the  afternoon ;  mi 
re-embarked  witfour  traps  2,ffr't  ^1°""  ""=  ""»"'""".  «e 
of  trees,  where  wo  starM  rfl  1  "■^  ""'  T'"'  "ear  theclmnp 

wore  snaking  for  tea  t, he  hone  ?'v?'"^-  •^'■"^  P^parations 
with  Cutler,  and  talk  over  „,,,„  '  '"  "'^  *''«'""  '»  '"!<«  "  stroll 
the  morrow  and  DrLeZ„  •     "'■'■""8'',™''"'"  ^"^  ""  ^^^b  start  in 

I  bnen,  sta  ed"?o''trntTor  zf ;::f  t,!rdir;w  ';;,'^  -?■•".'- 

"b...ue  to  ,ns  Wishes,  and  eounsellod  hhn '  to  lose  SS  toe^S 


i\ 


A     DAT     ON  THE     LAKE. 


ii:r 


the  impression  was  favorable,  to  bring  his  long-pending  negotiation 
to  a  conclusion. 

"  Slick,"  said  he,  laughing,  "  your  government  ought  to  have 
prevailed  upon  you  to  remain  in  the  diplomatic  service.  You  are 
such  a  capital  negotiator." 

"  Well,"  said  1,  "I  believe  I  would  have  succeeded  in  that  line; 
but  do  you  know  how  1" 

"  By  a  plentiful  use  of  soft  sawder,"  said  he. 

"  No,  Doctor,  I  knew  you  would  say  that ;  and  it  aint  to  be 
despised  neither,  I  can  tell  you.  No,  it's  because  you  go  coolly  to 
w  k,  for  you  are  negotiatin'  for  another.  If  you  don't  succeed, 
it  the  fault  of  the  mission,  of  course,  and  defeat  won't  break  your 
heart ;  if  you  do  carry  your  point,  why,  in  the  natur  of  things,  it 
is  all  your  own  skill.  1  hav3  done  famously  for  you  ;  but  I  made 
a  bungling  piece  of  business  for  myself,  I  assure  you.  What  my 
brother,  the  lawyer,  used  to  say,  is  very  true  :  '  A  man  who  pleads 
his  own  cause  has  a  fool  for  his  client.'  You  can't  praise  yourself, 
unless  it's  a  bit  of  brag,  and  that  I  can  do  as  well  as  any  one,  I  do 
suppose  ;  but  you  can't  lay  the  whitewash  on  handily  no  more  than 
you  can  brush  the  back  of  your  own  coat  when  it  is  on.  Cutler 
and  I  will  take  a  stroll,  and  do  you  invite  Jessie  out,  to  see  the 
moon  on  the  lake," 

'.  In  about  an  hour,  Peter,  who  had  found  his  pipes,  to  his  infinite 
delight,  intimated  supper  was  ready;  and  the  dispersed  groups 
returned,  and  sat  down  to  a  meal  which,  in  addition  to  the  tea  and 
coffee,  and  its  usual  accompaniments  at  country-houses,  had  some 
substantial  viands  for  those,  like  myself,  who  had  done  more  talk- 
ing  than  eating  at  dinner.  In  a  short  time,  tho  girls  retired  for 
the  night,  and  we  arranged  for  a  peep  of  day  return. 

"  Mr.  Slick,"  paid  the  Doctor,  "  I  have  ordered  the  boy  to  take 
the  moose  down  to  the  village,  as  my  share  of  the  sea  stores.  Will 
you  give  me  leave  to  go  a  part  of  the  cruise  with  you  !" 

"  With  great  pleasure,"  said  I ;  "  it's  just  what  I  was  going  to 
ask  the  favor  of  you  to  do.     It's  tl       ,Ty  identical  thing." 

"  Come,  Peter,"  said  he,  "  I  will  show  you  whore  to  turn  in ;" 
and  returning,  in  a  few  minutes,  with  Jackson,  desired  him  to  attend 
the  Captain. 

When  we  were  alone,  he  said : 

"Come  this  way,  Mr.  Slick.  Put  your  hat  on — I  want  you  to 
take  a  turn  with  me." 

And  leading  me  down  to  the  verge  of  the  woods,  where  I  saw  a 
light,  wo  entered  a  large  bark  wigwam,  where  he  said  he  often  slept 
during  the  hot  weather. 

It  was  not  made  in  the  usual  conical  form,  but  resembled  a  square 
tfut,  which,  among  Indians,  generally  indicates  there  is  a  large 
fuMiUy,  and  that  they  propose  to  occupy  tho  same  spot  for  some 


158 


I 


THE    BETROTHAL. 


on  which  th:tor;:.rr''it's'-:nrii'4r^^  ""^"^  "■^>'"'- 


1  iii 


/i 


CHAPTER  Xlf. 
THE  BETROTHAL 

we  were^all  soon  on  foot^and  in  Itlo^  'C  '^  '^'  'Tf ''  ""<^ 
the  cart,  and  the  boy  dispatched  wiM  'to ^hpTT'''"'  ^'^'^  ^"'^ 
it  in  readiness  for  puttinVon  hoird  nl  '''■^'''''  f^  ^'  *^  ^^^^e 

and  a  cup  of  coffeeCj"f r:;ar'e7^;"  sT  C^  ^^f^' 

keep  the  coJd  out  of  om-  «f..,v.o^i  i -i  ^  ^^^^'  ^^  ^^^  said,  to 
had  some  few  arrangements  fo^f  "".''^^  .travelling.  The  Doctor 
I  set  out  inTdvance^on  foot  ht"  ""  ^"V«/^g«'-"d  Cutler  and 
his  d,u,ghters,  ruld^[r;  as'lo™  Tpll  L'  t'k  ^^^-'  ^^ 
and  breakfast  with  us  onboard  of  the  Bla^k^a^^^^^^  the  waggons. 
"  yJi  Sir  ''""'^  f"'  ^'  ^^  '  ^^^'  ^^'"^  standing  It  'the  door 

There  is  grearma.STn  t  of  ^    JS^  ''T'"^^"^  "^^^'^^^J  «^'"tes. 
<^egree,  and^'^'souhe''  fotfh       '^  ^'•'  '"^""  "^^^  ^o  men  of  low 

attest,  is  buta  hS  lot '"if s^.Se'r  T''  ''t''  '^^^^^"^^' 
come  and  go  at  his  bidd  na  n?H  ^  jour  will  to  another,  to 

whistle,  aii^  just  thet  or:;  would  E^ i?  at  h  '  '''  ¥'  " 
4  master  may  forget  this,  a  seiwanttve,  does  t"  '''\''^''''' 
well  as  one  nf  tlK^  ^—af  rV^:^.^.  "r^®^  5'^^^-     -ihe  great  art.  as 

him  feel  it.     BiddiS^is  one^S  """f"'  "^^^^^^^^^  ^^  "ot  to  make 


THE    BETROTHAL. 


I5d 


you,  and  affection  is  a  stronger  tie  than  duty.  The  vanity  of  man- 
kind is  such,  that  you  alvvay;,  have  the  ingratitude  of  helps  dinned 
into  your  ears,  from  one  year's  end  to  another,  and  yet  these  folk 
never  heard  of  the  ingratitude  of  employers,  and  wouldn't  believe 
there  was  such  a  thing  in  the  world,  if  you  were  to  tell  them.  Un 
grateful,  eh!  Why,  didn't  I  pay  him  his  wages'?  wasn't  he  well 
boarded?  and  didn't  I  now  and  then  let  him  go  to  a  frolic?  Yes, 
he  wouldn't  have  worked  without  pay.  He  couldn't  have  lived  if 
he  hadn't  been  fed,  and  he  wouldn't  have  staid  if  you  hadn't  given  him 
recreation  now  and  then.  It's  a  poor  heart  that  don't  rejoice  some- 
times. So  much  thanks  he  owes  you.  Do  you  pray  that  it  may 
always  rain  at  night  or  on  Sundays?  Do  you  think  the  Lord  is 
the  Lord  of  masters  only  ?  But  he  has  been  faithful,  as  well  as 
diligent,  and  careful  as  well  as  laborious,  he  has  saved  you  more 
than  his  wages  came  to — are  there  no  thanks  for  this?  Pooh !  you 
remind  me  of  my  poor  old  mother.  Father  used  to  say  she  was 
the  most  unreasonable  woman  in  the  world — for  when  she  hired  a 
gall,  she  expected  perfection,  for  two  dollars  and  a  half  a  month. 

Mr.  Jackson!  didn't  that  make  him  feel  good  all  over?  Why 
shouldn't  he  be  called  Mr.,  as  well  as  that  selfish  conceited  McClure, 
Captain  ?  "  Yes,"  there  is  a  great  charm  in  that  are  word,  Mr.  It 
was  a  wrinkle  I  picked  -p  by  accident,  very  early  in  life.  We  had 
to  our  farm  to  Slickville,  an  Irish  servant,  called  Paddy  Monahan 
— as  hard-working  a  critter  as  ever  I  see,  but  none  of  the  boys 
could  get  him  to  do  a  blessed  thing  for  them.  He'd  do  his  plowin' 
or  reapin,  or  whatever  it  was,  but  the  deuce  a  bit  would  he  leave  it 
to  oblige  Sally  or  the  boys,  or  any  one  else,  but  father ;  he  had  to 
mind  him,  in  course,  or  put  his  three  great  coats  on,  the  way  he 
came,  one  atop  of  the  other,  to  cover  the  holes  of  the  inner  ones, 
and  walk.  But,  as  for  me,  he'd  do  anythin  I  wanted.  He'd  drop 
his  spade,  and  help  me  catch  a  horse,  or  he'd  do  my  chores  for  me, 
and  let  me  go  and  attend  my  mink  and  musquash  traps,  or  he'd 
throw  down  his  hoe  and  go  and  fetch  the  cows  from  pasture,  that  I 
might  slick  up  for  a  party — in  short  he'd  do  anything  in  the  world 
for  me. 

"  Well,  thev  ad  wondered  how  under  the  sun  Paddv  had  token 
such  a  shindy  to  me,  when  nobody  else  could  get  him  to  budge  an 
inch  for  them.  At  last,  one  day,  mother  asked  me  how  on  airth  it 
was — for  nothin  strange  goes  on  long,  but  a  woman  lilces  to  get  at 
the  bottom  of  it. 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  mother,  if  you  won't  whisper  a  syllable  to  any 
body  about  it,  I'll  tell  you." 

VT  iio',  iiiu,  oiiio,  oiic  ioiinim^' f  ioii«  anva}'s  caiieumcfjuiiimjf 
when  she  wanted  to  come  over  me.  "  Me  tell  ?  A  person  who 
can  keep  her  own  secrets,  can  keep  yours,  Sammy.  There  are 
some  things  I  never  told  your  father." 


' 

c 

1 

if 

< 

III 


I 


160 


THE     BETROTHAL. 


it 


Such  as  what,"  sais  I  % 


and  Paddy  altogether  a'd  1  "ai^ '^,i;„  ^t' m'  ""  V™^  ^  '  ''''''P  ^M 
a  word  about  the  prieLt  "  Monaghan,  and  never  say 

au";r^^'futS."  Tl^-dl'.^^- i» !!::  -^l"  ^'  ^™  p'ck  up 

Well,  I  never.     How  vou  d„  ,  l^    r        ""  .^''"''P  ""  »  ™edle. 

in/s  utTfor' It  'oref Lrt(^,;i"^''  ^^^  *>-" '"  '•'■"<' " 

to  call  Josiah,  Jo  and  brother  Eldad  TS''""^  .'I!"''''*  ««  ""^d 
together,  as  "  «paVens,'°or  ra  '  cjlio^s"^!  aid  Yl  ^"^^  Y  >'»"' 
calling  mother,  when  he  sDokpToThlVi,^  l""^  ^^  «''«"<  •>/ 
«nd  Sally,  "  thLt  younl  cratur  Sal-  n1  J'.^S  'u"  """'-^  ^°™''».^ 
when  he  mentioned  m^  if  was  a  L,?"  ,^ ''  ''"'"'  *"  ^"'^'''^'"^ 
.hen  I  was  with  him,  it'was ''your  hTor  "  '  ^"""^  '^'^'<'  "»'' 

.hoothfg  atltrgcTpIrOro'  r""' '';™=  "  P™«-  °f  ball, 
ne  :  "  \Vould  ycSfhf'or  Juliet  "'I'j''  ''^  "y,  ™"*i'^.  ""'J,  sals 
make  a  little  round  hole"  in  if  ahn  ,f  .^  '^  "  "TK  "•'  "•  ^ou  only 
the  piper  that  played  before  Mos"niV'''.5''  n^  "  "^^  '  >»".  V 
■       "Yes,"  sals  ?,  '  V'^fa^tr  '       'ardt-ll':.?-"''"^--" 

seieTtt  "iL':  ^s:  re 'tr '  s  11  r  '^'™"^'^'"'»  -««e, 

back  the  right  one  well  behind  him  f  1^  °.'"' T''  "'<'»  traces 
to,  and  makes  an  awfu  wrv  face  T'  ??1,  ""'"  ^^  ^''"'^  ^is  left  eye 
every  bit  of  light  out  of  it  and^'l,  I  ^t  ™\<i<i'ermi»ed  to  keep 
shoulder  with  a  deuce  of  a  flm.ri!^  he  brought  his  gun  up  to  the 
AH  at  once  he  lowered  the  pfeee       '  '"^  "'°''  "  '""S,  steaSy  aim. 

I  did  wtr /'".'"d'at'S^Bhr"'  ^rr  ''?»«'•."  -id  he,  "  the  way 
hedge,  for  lettii  a  ffrm  to  ,  BeS  he;"t'-''^'n\  ('T  •'^'""^  ">« 
him,  your  honor."  He  paused  at 'If K-  .^^  '  '^"^"^  '  ■■"<»'= 
with  him.  "  His  coat  7Zin  .?  ".°T"'' '"%  '""S""  ^ad  run  away 
nait  as  a  tailor  could  '  t  Sd  hi'„  \  '  '  ™'  ""^  ^'''■''^  <>«  ^ 
feathers  flyin  that  wiy,  he  Toot  tomZfW'  "'"='•  ">«  ^"^^  *" 

4"  '^^  Cnte-^trasthrof  thTf  "^^""^  "'-'^ 
It  Stood."  He  took  a  fresh  nm  t  Ar  !  ^^^\  ^""'^^^^  <^«  t^Il  where 
over  head,  the  maUer  Sree^;  fn  r'^'  ^"^^^"^  ^°  ^^"^^  ^^eJ^ 
behind  him,  ever  "Ir.  ^'  *"""''  ^"'^  ^^^  ^"»  flew  awaj 

"  I  am  kilt  entirely.     I  am  a  d, 
'  poker,  but  my  arm  is  broke." 


Sam. 


sais 


man, 


THE    BETROTHAL. 


161 


♦'  I  am  afraid  my  gun  is  broke,"  said  I,  and  off  I  set  in  search 
of  it. 

"  Stop,  yer  honor,"  said  he,  "  for  the  love  of  Heaven,  stop,  or 
she'll  be  the  death  of  you." 

"  What  ?  "  sais  1. 

"There  are  five  more  shots  in  her  yet,  Sir.     I  put  in  six  c 
ridges,  so  as  to  make  sure  of  that  paper  kite,  and  only  one  of  them 
is  gone  off  yet.     "Oh!  my  shoulder  is  out,  Mas^-^r  Sam.     Don't 
say  a  word  of  it.  Sir,  to  the  ould  cratur,  and  — " 

"  To  who !  "  said  I. 

"To  her  ladyship,  the  mistress,"  said  he,  "  and  I'll  sarve  you  by 
day  and  by  night." 

Poor  Pat !  you  were  a  good-hearted  creature  naturally,  as  most 
of  your  countrymen  are,  if  repealers,  patriots  and  demagogues  of 
all  sorts  and  sizes,  would  only  let  you  alone.  Yes,  there  is  a  great 
charm  in  that  word  "  Mr." 

So,  sais  I,  "  Mr.  Jackson !  " 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  said  he.     "  Let  me  look  at  your  bugle." 

"  Here  it  is,  your  honor." 

"  What  a  curious  lookin  thing  it  is,'*  sais  I,  "  and  what's  all  them 
little  button-like  things  on  it  with  long  shanks  1 " 

"  Keys,  Sir,"  said  he. 

"  Exactly,"  sais  I,  "  they  unlock  the  music,  I  suppose,  don't  they, 
and  let  it  out?     Let  me  see  if  I  could  blow  it." 

"  Try  the  pipes,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  Peter.  "  Tat  is  nothin  but  a 
prass  cowhorn  as  compared  to  the  bagpipes." 

"  No  thank  you,"  sais  I,  "  it's  only  a  Highlander  < 
out  of  that." 

"  She  never  said  a  wiser  word  tan  tat,"  he  replied,  much  grati- 
fied. 

"  Now,"  sais  I,  "  let  me  blow  this,  does  it  take  much  wind  1 " 

"No,"  said  Jackson,  "  not  much,  try  it  Sir." 

Well,  I  put  it  to  my  lips,  and  played  a  well-known  air  on  it. 
"  It's  not  hard  to  play,  after  all,  is  it,  Jackson  1 " 

"No,  Sir,"  said  he,  looking  delighted,  "nothing  is  hard  to  a 
man  as  knows  how,  as  you  do." 

"  Tom,"  sais  Betty,  "  dont't  that  do'ee  good  1  Oh,  Sir,  I  ain't 
'eard  that  since  I  left  the  hold  country,  it's  what  the  guards  has 
used  to  be  played  in  the  mail-coaches  has  was.  Oh,  Sir,  when 
they  corned  to  the  town,  it  used  to  sound  pretty ;  many's  the  time 
I  have  run  to  the  window  to  listen  to  it.  Oh,  the  coaches  was  a 
pretty  sight,  Sir.     But  them  times  is  all  gone,"  and  she  wiped  a 

tcui  iTuiu  nui  uyu  Willi  iiic  sjurnci   vi  uci   apiv^ii, — ti  fLs.-.!    -ut.!.  ■ 

recollection  of  early  days,  had  called  up  from  the  fountain  of  her 
heart. 

Oh,  what  a  volume  does  one  stray  thought  of  the  past  contain 


can  make  music 


162 


THE   Bet 


f  ^.i. 


I:      ■ 


i    I 


I      1! 


R  0  T  H  A  t , 


within  itself.     It  \a  ]tu^  „       , 

^-/y  expands  into\' tlL^n^t  If'llXh^d  "  I'.'  "*^^^-  ^^  -^- 
meteors,  tliat  scatter  i„  all  dirSLT  ''^?^.^^ thousand  sparklin;, 
to  Its  own  train.  Yes  Zt  ZTl  ^\^\  '^  '"^'<^'"g  attention  each 
awakens  them  all  to  p^infa  Z'  ^v^^^  V^''  cen^eof  many  and 
vivid  flash  of  li^htnC  ^'  «ens,bil,ty.     Perhaps  it  is  more^ike  a 

whole  Jandscape^and  ?,'h  bitsin  tt-"''!^  "^^"^^  brightnes    the 
the  very  leave's  Lnd  flowers,    haUifhIS  in  th't  t"'"  ^"^  «"^^'"« 

a  perfec^t^roSff:::  Telt^ ^rV'^^^^-^^  -  ^he  doorway- 
t'ce  to  that  face-it  was  a  s^ud.  f  ^'  '''^"^  "'^'^^'  ««"'d  do  is- 
was  filled  with  thoseSr  btutifurno^^'"fr  .P^^  ^^ole  sU 
the  frame,  and  attuned  ev--  y  nerve  1. 1?  f'  '^''  V^""'^^  '^'^^^^^ 
She  was  so  wrapt  in  admlrafion  sh^  d  In't?;.- "  ^\"^?>^  ''^'^'^  ^'^ 
for  I  try  m  a  general  way  that  Ztht  V  ?,*''^  "^^^^  ^  observed, 
they  were  behind  us  alirrjusfeanlf  ^  r^^"  ''^"^^  "^^5  but  as 

I  turned  my  head  sudd  nlyfwi  hdttinf  1""^''  V^'  ^"^''^^  (as 
She  didn't  know  it  oFon^JJ  ^''^"^'^awmg  his  arm  from  her  wai^f 

ain't  likely  sheTe  hfrand^^slTr-f^^^f^^^  '"  ^'^?  -"«  e  It 
havP  objected  to  it.  ^i  m^s  ^SITI:  ''  '?'«  ^^^'"^^^'^  ^^e  would 
heart  she  had  given  him     f      u     "^^  ^^  ^^^^^^  b'ke  to  press  thA 

able  he  should'irke  toTnow  how  It  T\f  l^'  "^^'^  ^^  "L^n! 
tioctors  like  to  feel  ZuTi.         ^  ^^^^ "     ^^°  ^as  a  doctor    and 

-n't  help  it.  TreyCTyou^wSt'S'  '.1'^"^'-  '^  ^'^-^^ey 
\'  a  woman's,  why  their  hand  111^^^  f  ^' u^^^^  '^'  ^"d  if  ,^ 
on  all  fours,  crawls  up  on  i  s  fintr/  .Mf'f'''^^^^  ^^'^^  that  went 
Pnlse  of  all  is.  Ah  Doctor  /i^'  5",  '^  ^^^^  *«  ^^here  the  best 
and  it  will  beatwaVml7t;ltr;^^^^^^^^ 

Peter  would  have  said  if' T  I^  ^  "'  ^  ^"^'^'-  I  wonder  what 
didn't  know  nothi:.' about  pulses''  ^'"^  "^"^  ^  ''''  ^"^  ^hen  he 
cise  ofrf:::;^^;:r^^^  ^^  is  the  last  exer. 

It  is  the  Lt  tim'e  /ou'  i  tleTefr  '  ^''"  ^^'"'^  '^^^  ^^  ^^^^  all  ^ 
haps  it  beat  so  loud^ou  cou  di^fd  J'''  ^TP'^^'^^  before,  perl 
^t  the  new  emotion  or  the'    t^ntfc^af  h'^^^g^  ^as 

W:ji'TV^'  -e  again  whit  natu"'  fs''  ''"''''  ^^"  ^^  ^     ^^ 
tition  With  i;'S.;:^te^^',^^  ^-^-^^^  «|;e  .ave  the  reps 
amazmg.     Cutler  and  I   h^took  lei  '."'"?'  ^'^'^^  ^^^  P^^'^^etly 
ceeded  on  our  way  to  the  shore  '  ^"'  '^^  P''^^^"^'  and  pro. 

.   An,  Sir!"  said.Tankanp  ,.,v  ^--.  .   . 

a  long  while  ago  since  f"eard  t  h  .f  Z-''''^f.r'''^  ,"'  ^^  ^he  bars,  ''it's 


THE     BETROTHAL. 


168 


nil  turned  out  with  new,  arness  and  coaches  fresh  painted,  and 
coachman  and  guard  in  new  toggery,  and  four  as  beautiful  bits  of 
blood  to  each  on  'em  as  was  to  be  found  in  England,  warn't  it  a 
sicrht  to  behold.  Sir]  The  world  could  show  nothin'  like  it,  Sir. 
And  to  think  they  are  past  and  gone,  it  makes  one's  'eart  hache. 
They  tells  me  the  coachman  now,  Sir,  has  a  dirty  black  face,  and 
rides  on  a  fonder  before  a  large  grate,  and  flourishes  a  red  'ot  poker 
instead  of  a  ^^hip.     The  guard.  Sir,  they  tells  me,  is  no " 

"  Good  bye,  Mr.  Jackson ;"  P"d  I  shook  hands  with  him. 

"  Isn't  that  too  bad,  Sir,  now  "i  he  said.  "  Why,  here  is  Betty 
attain,  Sir,  with  that  d — d  'at,  and  a  lecture  about  the  stroke.  Good 
bye  your  honor,"  said  he. 

When  we  came  to  the  bridge  where  the  road  curved  into  the 
woods,  I  turned  and  took  a  last  look  at  the  place  where  I  had  spent 
such  an  ngreeable  day. 

I  don't  envy  you  it.  Doctor,  but  I  wish  I  had  such  a  lovely 
place  at  Slickville  as  that.  What  do  you  think,  Sophy,  eh  1  I 
have  an  idea  you  and  I  could  be  very  happy  there,  don't  you  1 

"  Oh !  Mr.  Slick,"  said  Jehu  Judd,  who  was  the  first  person  I 
saw  at  the  door  of  Peter's  house,  "  what  an  everlastin'  long  day 
was  yesterday  !  I  did  nothing  but  renew  the  poultice,  look  in  the 
glass,  and  turn  into  bed  again.     It's  off  now,  ain't  it  ]" 

"  Yes,"  sais  I,  "  and  we  are  off,  too,  in  no  time." 

"  But  the  trade,"  sais  he  ;  "let's  talk  that  over." 

»  Haven't  time,"  sais  I ;  *'  it  must  be  short  meter,  as  you  say 
when  you  are  to  home  to  Quaco,  practising  Sail  Mody  (as  you  call 
it)  raackarel  is  five  dollars  a  barrel,  sains  thirty — say  yes  or  no, 
that's  the  word." 

"  How  can  you  have  the  conscience  ?"  said  he. 

"I  never  taik  of  conscience  in  trade,"  sais  1;  "only  of  prices. 
Bargain  or  no  bargain,  that's  the  ticket." 

"  I  can't,"  he  said. 

"  Well,  then,  there  is  an  end  of  it,"  says  I.     "  Good  bye,  friend 

Sais  he  :  "  You  have  a  mighty  short  way  with  you,  my  friend. 

"  A  short  way  is  better  than  a  long  face,"  said  I. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  I  can't  do  without  the  sains  (nets)  no  how  I 
can  fix  it,  so  I  suppose  I  must  give  the  price.  But  I  hope  I  may 
be  skinned  alive,  if  you  ain't  too  keen." 

'  Whoever  takes  a  fmcy  to  skin  you,  whether  dead  or  alive, 
will  have  a  tough  job  of  it,  I  reckon,"  sais  I,  "  it's  as  tight  as  the 
bark  of  a  tree."  ^^ 

'•  For  two  pins,"  said  he,  "  I'd  tan  your  hide  for  you  now, 

said  he.  . 

"  Ah,"  said  I,  "  you  are  usin'   your  sain  before  you  pay  for  it. 

That's  not  fair." 


164 


THE     BETROTHAL. 


iMt't  M  ' 


I 


"Why?"  said  he. 

rvgr^iji^'tldhi:^;^^^ 

^^'^lZli:T^.Z^^^^^  a  hand  on  ,. 

presently,  and  so  fVie,,d  Judd  tuLdti  ^°  ';^'""  J<^'«  ^0" 
make  haste,  or  there  will  be  'mC  fiddJinf  ''i^,"'  '^'  ^'''^'  '"'  «"d 
the  devil  this  morning  '  "  "^^^""^  '^"'^  ^«ncing  and  serving 

shook  Ks't  aTme '  '^itroV"  '.  ^^""^  «^  ^'"^-^  hatred  and 
and  said,  'UhatW^ht  a^e  ^ou'L  l"f  "^f  ^'^  **  ^-  b";' 
groan  with  when  you  get  homp  nm^f  '  *^  '^^'^^  ^""'^  ^roth  or  to 
the  Conie-outers.  ^        '''"^'  ''"^  ^"^«  «  refreshing  tin.e  with 

"My  father  was  a  preacher. 
A  mij^hty  holy  man  ; 
My  mother  was  a  Methodist, 
But  Tm  a  Tunyan." 

speeeWerwUh'^rj'  anVtZf  ""'f''  "'  '^''''      He  was  nnite 
proceeded  with  the  1?;.ptTi?uo^t^"^^^^^^^^^  ^^'^^  nothing,^a  d 

the  party  returned  from  the  Jake  but  th     T' '^"'^  *™«  before 
apart  a.id  Jessie  and  the  DoctJ.r  'mt  t.'"''  ^'^^"^"^  ^^^^«  ^ar 
was  bad,  and  he  was  a  poor     rive,      nh''"' ^' ''^"' ^^^ ''^ad 
loves  the  woods,  don't  know  or  c^rP  I  ^'^T  '^-     ^  "^an  who 
ft^Jiow  because  'a  feller    sa  good  '1^^^  '^""'  '^^"^^-     '^  '^on't 
was  It  they  had  so  much  to\!v    k      f'  ^"^  '^  ^  g'^«^^   whip-  or 
t"ne.     W^ll,  I  ain'tTx  ti  no  ^intf ''■'  f'''''  ^'^^^^'^  arfbrd 
yo"  are.  Squire.     StiJl\hou"h  Cunl^      '"^  "'"""'^'  ^''^"ff'^  Pcrhaps 
arrows,  (and  how  many      K^-e  ^i^l^P'"^'^"^^^  ^^''^h  bows  and 
always  sold  the  best,)  I  don'   think'Z  L    ""''  '"^  '^'''^'^  ^'«'-  ^hoy 
one  boss  waggon.    A'ianoe  w  n    "  Hv  0  ^ZT  ""K'^'t^  '"  ^»  «' "^ 
would  have  been  more  at  ho  ^  t^     'f- /"  "  ^''^^  ^•^"«'-' y^'« 
always  be  courted  in  one,  for  you  cWf  v        '.r*''  "  S'^"  ^  ^^^>"ld 
be  capsized.     It's  the  s-ifUV  nU      r  .      ^""""P  *1^^''<'.  "r  you  would 
ovorheadand  ears  b  l?  eTL^'',; e  ^Tof'     ^^'%-^/-irio"bo 
the  water,  is  no  place  for  live  maHnr''.      ^l^.^'!"  '^^'^'^  and  ears  in 
and  even  they  spout  and  b  ow  like  "al  iV  V'''  >'«""g  whales, 

as  .f you  might  have  too  nu.cro fa  ,'i wT  ''  '?'^  '^'y  ^^^"'*^  "P 

They  both  looked  happy- j'l>        ^^'"»'  ^'^"^  ^^^^^  ?" 
countenance,  when  it  turned  on  m.  I'"'  "!''^P'''«t'"cated,  and  her 
have  taken  your  advin.    ,^,d  I  ^?    f  r ',^  *^ '*'^^'  "  Mr.  Slide,  f 
I^octor  looked   happy;  bu     hi     ^00^'''/  ^  ^''^•"     ^"^  ^^e 
Sl.ek,  no  nonsense,^Le,  lett  ^^^ ^i::^}^^  -w 


THE     BETROTHAL. 


165 


Peter  perceived  something  ho  didn't  understand.  He  had  «een 
a  great  deal  he  didn't  connprchend  since  he  left  the  Highlands,  and 
heard  a  great  many  things  ho  didn't  know  the  meaning  of.  It  was 
enonh  for  him  if  he  could  guess  it. 

"  1  octor,"  said  ho,  "  how  many  kind  o'  partridges  are  there  in 
this  country  ?" 

"  Two,"  said  the  simple-minded  naturalist,  "  spruce  and  birch." 

"  Which  is  the  prettiest  ?" 

"The  birch." 

"  And  the  smartest  ]" 

»  The  birch." 

"  Both  love  to  live  in  the  woods,  don't  they  V' 

«  Yes." 

*'  Well  there  is  a  difference  in  color.  Ta  ypruco  is  red  flesn,  and 
ih  birch  white,  did  you  ever  know  them  mix  ?" 

'"  Often,"  said  the  Doctor,  who  began  to  understand  ihis  allego- 
rical talk  of  the  North-Wcst  trader,  and  feci  uncomfortable,  and 
thcrefire  didn't  like  to  say  no.  "Well,  then,  the  spruce  must  stay 
^vith  the  pirch,  or  l-ie  pirch  live  with  the  spruce,"  continued  Peter. 
"  The  pcech  wood  between  the  two  are  dangerous  to  both,  for  its 
only  fit  for  cuckoot^s." 

Peter  looked  chuflfy  and  sulky.  There  was  no  minister  at  the 
remote  post  he  had  belonged  to  in  the  nor-west.  The  governor 
there  read  a  sermon  of  a  Sunday  sometimes,  but  he  oftener  wrote 
letters.  The  inarriages,  when  contracted,  were  generally  limited 
to  the  period  of  service  of  the  employes,  and  sometimes  a  wife  was 
bought,  or  at  others,  entrapped  like  a  beaver.  It  was  a  civil  or 
uncivil  contract  as  the  case  might  be.  Wool 
didn't  understand  ;  for  what  right  had  a  womp 
her  own  1  Jessie  felt  for  her  father,  the  Doct<. 
retired  crying.     The  Doctor  said  : 

"Peter,  you  know  me — I  am  an  honest  man ;  give  me  your 
tjonfidcnce,  and  then  1  will  ask  the  Chief  for  t'  o  hand  of  his 
daughter." 

"  Tat  r  like  herself,"  said  Peter.  "  And  she  never  doubted  he.* ; 
and  there  is  her  hand,  which  is  her  word.  Tarn  the  coffee  !  let  us 
have  a  gliiss  of  whiskey." 

And  he  poured  out  three,  and  we  severally  drank  to  each  other's 
health,  and  peace  was  once  mere  restored. 

Thinks  I  to  myself,  now  is  the  time  to  settle  this  affair ;  for  the 
Doctor,  Peter,  and  Jessie  are  all  I'ke  children  ;  it's  right  to  shovf 
'em  how  to  act. 

"  Doctor,"  sais  I,  "just  see  if  the  cart  with  the  moose  has 
arrived  ;  we  must  be  a  moving  soon,  for  the  wind  is  fair." 

As  soon  as  he  went  on  this  er^  md,  "  Peter,"  sais  I,  "  the  Doctor 
wants  to  marry  your  daughter,  and  she,  I  think,  is  not  unwilling, 


a« 


*  thing  he 
pinion  of 
wcrself,  and 


:  *-■       !  ■ 


166 


THE    BETROTHAL, 


world  as  vo,.  dr"     n  "  °'°''  ''°"  '  '"'°»'  "s  much  of  ihe 

in  the  world,  and  cros.i^d  th..  iu~;,'"°'"'° '"'''='' P'a^s 

Canada  and  Nova  sSrandirr*^  ^  ^''^  ^"" '  P^^Wes 
and  wolves,  and  pinrnos'es  and  Zff^  '  ^J't  ^"'''  ""^  '"*''"' 
dogs,  and  liighIaL':hXr'lSit'"dlf  and"o  ?::  ^f  Ft™ 

porn  though  she  LaL-t  the  htU^'ot":  i^tt^-  ^-^  -" 
patt  iTissrlt'l'Le:^^",  -'"i™'''™''-  went  on  this 
was  d„l,  pert- r/A  "wtn  ie^S'lfSlt"'  ^  ""^  "'^-  ^^'™"'^' 
my  Sretr  """''  ""  '^    '"'*■  "'««'""  ■'    «od  bless  you  both. 

Pip«»  ?    Strike  up  3^ur  ;:c'riie'st';,ii:  '?"  '^""''-     ^'-^  -"  *« 

his  b^lta'lS-ff  ?^&'  "f '''./<'"'*""'''  ™  »"•»""•,"  in 
the  best.     When  we^a  ri  fdTt  ,1  ""f  '°  l'"  g°«d.  ^here  lad  is 

friend,  the  blacl.  ste4dwe/e  ready  to  re'  ^'"'"  ,"'"'  '"'  "'^ 
been  a  bad  omen  to  have  h..l  «„  ^        *'"'""'  "^-     J'  would  have 

-on,  but  that  "Vs  on,;  a   tuiar™:"''-  *^•"'"-"»d  pair  so 
negro.  ^      jocuiai  name  given  to  u  very  nie^ 


you 


u  r '"■  ^"■'■""'•"  ^'"^  ''  »=  "-  P"«hed  off  in  the  boat,  "  how  are 

ii.    \T  1  . 


shLTuT^it'VoulS''  'Ji^ri'i:^^^  ^-M'-d  --t  rediculou. 

been  withdrawn  from  deShfolf  '^  '^""  ^'^  ^""''^  «'"^«  >°" 
sent  on  shore  anr  .mf  o       ^      ^  ^°"''  countenance,  and  d-.  crew 

writers  -^1^:;^.^.:^^^ ^H  IS  '''  ''"f'  ^^  "^- 
call  nigga  songs,  like  Lucy  nS  and  Luc^^  T  ^  «""?:  hymns,  as  dey 
we  must  hab  ablution  .JnZ     .    1    f^.  ^""^''f"^  ^^en  dey  said 

pork-barrel,  Sorrow  ?"  said  I  ' 


nil   r      J  :.-  ^"*"-'^'*'^«i,  sorrow 
Oh,  Lord  bless  you,  Massa,  in  need 


er 


><>u  knows  de  meamug 


THE    BETROTHAL. 


167 


ob  dat  are  word— I  is  sure  you  does — dey  made  rne  most  tosicated, 
Massa,  and  dey  said,  '  Sorrow,  come  preach  ablution  sarmon.' 
Oil,  Massa,  1  was  berry  sorry,  it  made  me  feel  all  ober  like  ague; 
but  how  could  1  insist  so  many  1  what  was  I  to  do  1  dey  fust  made 
me  dor  slave,  and  den  said,  '  now  tell  us  'bout  'mancipation.' 
Well,  dey  gub  me  glrss  ob  rum,  and  I  swallowed  it— berry  bad 
rum— well,  dat  wouldn't  do.  Well,  den  dey  gub  me  anoder  glass, 
and  dat  wouldn't  "do  :  dis  here  child  hab  trong  head,  Massa,  werry 
trong,  but  he  hoped  de  rum  was  all  out,  it  v/as  so  bad ;  den  dey 
rcjeetioned  anoder  in  my  face,  and  I  paused  and  crastimated  :  sais 
I,  'Masters,  is  you  done?'  for  dis  child  was  afeard,  Massa,  if  he 
drank  all  de  bottle  empty,  dey  would  tro  dat  in  his  face  too,  so 
sais  I  : 

" '  J\f  "iters,  I  preaches  under  protest,  against  ow^ncrs  and  s.iip  for 
bandot  a ;  out  if  1  must  put  to  sea,  and  dis  nigga  don't  know 
how  t'o  dteer  by  luna"  compass,  here  goes.'  Sais  i,  'my  dear 
brcdren,'-  -and  dey  all  called  out : 

" '  You  farnal  nigga  you  !  do  you  call  us  bredren,  when  you  is  as 
Hack  as  de  dcbbil's  hind  leg?' 

"  '  I  beg  your  most  massiful  pardon.'  sais  I ;  '  but  as  you  is  ablu- 
tionists,  and  when  you  preach  call  us  regraded  niggars.  your 
colored  brcdren,  I  tought  1  might  venture  to  foller  in  de  same  suit, 
if  1  had  a  card  ob  same  color.' 

"  '  Well  done,  Uncle  Tom,'  sais  they.  '  Well  done,  Zip  Coon,' 
and  dey  made  me  swallow  anoder  glass  ob  naked  truth.  Dis  here 
child  has  a  trong  head,  Massa,  oat  are  a  fac.  He  stand  so  rn'.'oh 
su.  ,  he  aint  combustioned  in  his  entails. 

"  '  Go  on,'  sais  they. 

"  ''  Well,  my  bredren,''  sais  I,  '  I  will  dilate  to  you  the  vally  of  a 
r.i^gn^  as  put  in  one  scale  and  white  mai  n  de  oder.  Now, 
bredren,  you  know  a  sparrer  can't  fall  to  de  round  no  how  he  can 
fix  it,  but  de  Lord  knows  it— in  course  ob  argument  you  do. 
Well,  you  knows  twelve  sparrers  sell  in  de  market  for  one  penny. 
In  cc'.r^e  of  rcspondence  you  do ;  how  much  then  does  de  Lord 
care  for  a  nigga  like  me,  who  is  worth  six  hundred  dollars  and  tifty 
cents  at  de  least?  So,  gentlemen,  I  is  done,  and  n.nv  please,  my 
bredren,  I  will  pass  round  de  hat  wid  your  recurrence.' 

"  Well,  dey  was  pretty  high,  and  dey  behaved  like  gentlemen,  I 
must  submit  dat ;  dey  gub  nic  four  dollars,  dey  did — dey  is  great 
fricrds  to  nigga,  ard  great  mancipationists,  all  ob  dem ;  and  I 
would  hab  got  two  dollars  more,  I  do  rally  conclude,  \i  I  hadn't  a 
called  'em  my  bredren.     Dat  was  a  slip  ob  de  lock-jaw." 

I  must  inquire  into  this,"  said  CuJer,  *'  it's  the  most  indecent 
ever  heard  of.     It  is  downright  profanity  ;  it  is  s.hocking.' 
a-y,"  said  I,  "but  the  sermon  warn't  a  tad  one;  I  never 
reason  before  j  I  knew  they  could  talk,  and  so  can 


thing 


'eb' 


\ 


:  '<; 


*.  I- 
i 


M 


168 


THE    BETEOTHAL. 


^.°ft  Tandemberry  ;  lj„t  as  for  reasonino,  I  never  heerd  eitW 
or^the  other  atte.pt  it  before.     There  fs  .n'^Z^  ^^^^ 

sai;t^t^7Ta?^;;e1/a°-^^^^^^ 

the  p^s,„g  round  of  the  hat  i.,  quite  eva„U3  "  ^"^'  ""^ 

Wd:n:o"lT.  "  '"°""'  ''--'  »-  ^'- iMhe^ti:"et7r 

..;  *TeS''tL"t;lT  "^'™*'^  "'  ^--     «'-  W  there, 

"Exactly,"  sais  I,  "Cutler— give  wav  there  mv  Ty,av, 
bow-oar— that's  mv  maxim  tn^     L     .1,    j    '•,   ^  ™^"  5  ease  the 
you  don't  hear'"Ta^sT       '       ^  ^"^  '^'  ^"''^^  '^'^  ^"«  ^^^^n  if 

.,,;SjKSrstK/:f:^i^-^;,, 
.oVVoeShi^o^^frrs.'te^^^ 

».»^7«;ttr::"  ^™-'^'"-^  "ef  laughing;  'llt^,  the 
u  Jr  f^»P  ^^  ''^*^  women,"  said  I. 

Th    h      i!?'V'''  "  V,''  "^  "'^  ^^"""^  ;  yo»  are  incorric^ible  " 
The  breakfast  was  like  other  breakfasts  of  the  same  kind'"  and 
as  the  wind  was  fa.r,  we  could  not  venture  to  offer  any  amusemo  f^ 
to  our  guests.     So  in  due  time  we  parted,  the  Doctor  2ZZT 
Avhole  party  remaining  on  board.     Cutler  made  ?ho  fi, «  v' 

ascending  the  companion-ladder,  and  I  shU'  t  ds  ,v  S^  ^^  a^ 
a  hmt  for  mm  to  follow      JesmV  hm-  dof^,.  r\  i  t    ^^''^'  ^^ 

ever  na^       ifou  have  made  me  feel  what  it  is  to  be  haonv  •"  nnrl 
woman-hke,  to  prove  her  happiness,  burst  out  a  cryb.  S'  thr  w 
her  arms  round  my  neck  and  kissed  me.     "  Oh '  Mr  81?^  ^^ 
part  forever  ?"  *  ^^^^-  ^^^^^^  ^^  we 

"Forever  !"  sals  I,  trying  to  cheer  her  up;  "forever  is  a  mo.f 
thundern.g  long  word.     No,  not  forever,  nor  for  long  eithei 
expect  you  and  the  Doctor  will  come  and  visit  m  to  slkille  this 
^^h^f  liitK? St^;^^^^^  -'  "  <'  becausetV^l?^ 

"  Oh  !"  said  she ;  "  how  kind  that  is  !" 

.nnn^l  '^ilH^Z'^'.'^  ^  b}-<^^^  thing.  Jane  and  I  will 
Evp"»  a7  r  r7  -^u""  ;""^  ^"^  ■^^•^■t"^'  to  bid  each  other  good- 
bye.       As  1  reached  the  door,  I  turned  and  said  :  "Jessie,  teach 


1    ! 


.'      *- 

"r--^. 


A    FOGGY    NIGHT 


169 


fd  either  one 
^1  to  logic  in 

ionists  in  it," 
capita],  and 

sea  and  the 

for  Sunday 

•est  she  ever 

e  way  there, 

tn ;  ease  the 
^oii  learn  if 

;o  evil  ?" 
1  swapping ; 
id,  how  can 
h " 

'  down  the 


igible." 
kind;  and, 
musements 
lone  of  the 
t  move  by 
!i  Peter  as 
,  remained 
h  agitated. 
)ointing  to 
ist  friend  I 
)py ;"  and, 
and  threw 
icii,  do  we 

is  a  most 
either.  I 
liville  this 
it  referred 


and  I  will 
her  good- 
isie,  teach 


hir/i  Gaelic  the  way  Flora  taught  me—'  do  bhileau  boidheach'  (with 
your  pretty  lips).' " 

As  the  boat  drew  alongside,  Peter  bid  me  again  a  most  affeo. 
tionate  if  not  a  most  complimentary  farewell. 

"She  has  never  seen  many  Yankees  herself,"  said  Peter;  "but 
pray  en  Joe,  the  horse-steal  er — tam  him — and  a  few  New  England 
pedlars,  who  asked  three  hundred  per  shent  for  their  coots,  but 
Mr.  Slick  is  a  shentleman,  every  inch  of  him,  and  the  pest  of  them 
she  ever  saw,  and  she  will  pe  glad  to  see  her  again  whenever  she 
comes  this  way." 

When  they  were  all  seated  in  the  boat,  Peter  plaved  a  doleful 
ditty,  which  I'have  no  doubt  expressed  the  grief  of  his  heart.  But 
I  am  sorry  to  say  it  was  not  much  appreciated  on  board  of  the 
"Black  Hawk."  By  the  time  they  reached  the  shore,  the  anchor 
was  up,  the  sails  trimmed,  and  we  were  fairly  out  of  Ship  Harbor. 


CHAPTER   Xin. 

A    FOGGY    NIGHT. 

«  The  wind,  what  there  was  of  it,  was  off  shore;  it  was  a 
light  north-wester,  but  after  we  made  an  offing  (3f  about  ten  miles, 
it  tailed  us,  being  evidently  nothing  but  a  land-breeze,  and  we  were 
soon  becalmed.  After  tossing  about  for  an  hour  or  two,  a  light 
cat's-paw  gave  notice  that  a  fresh  one  was  springing  up,  but  it  was 
from  the  east,  and  directly  ahead. 

"  We  shall  make  poor  work  of  this,"  said  the  pilot,  "  and  I  am 
afraid  it  will  bring  up  a  fog  with  it,  which  is  a  dangerous  thing  on 
this  coast;  I  would  advise  returning  to  Ship  Harbor,  but  the 
Captain  said,  business  must  be  attended  to,  and  as  there  was  no 
thing  more  of  the  kind  to  be  done  there,  we  must  only  have 
patience  and  beat  up  for  Port  Liscomb,  which  is  a  great  resort  for 
fishermen."  I  proposed  we  should  take  the  wind  as  we  found  it, 
and  run  for  Chesencook,  a  French  settlement,  a  short  distance 
to  the  westward  of  us,  and  so  we  could  effect  our  object  there, 
which  I  thought  very  probable,  as  no  A.nerican  vessels  put  in 
there  if  they  can  avoid  it.  This  proposition  met  the  approval  of 
all  parties,  so  we  put  the  Black  Hawk  before  the  wind,  and  by 

furled  before  the  fog  set  in,  or  rather  rose  up,  for  it  seemed  not  so 
much  to  come  from  the  sea  as  to  ascend  from  it  as  steam  arises 
from  heated  water. 
8 


s 


170 


A    FOGGY     NIGHT. 


. 


fl 


' 

In 

• 

f 

\ 

I 

.t-»;/  .^ 

'  1 

.» 

It  seemed  the  work  of  magic,  its  appearance  was  so  sudden.  A 
moment  before  there  was  a  glorious*  sunset,  now  wc  had  impene- 
trable darkness.  We  were  enveloped,  as  it  were,  in  a  cloud,  the 
more  dense,  perhaps,  because  its  progress  was  arrested  by  the 
sjjruce  hills,  back  of  the  village,  and  it  had  receded  upon  itself. 
Ihe  little  French  settlement  (for  the  inhabitants  were  all  descended 
from  the  ancient  Acadians)  was  no  longer  discernible,  and  heavy 
drops  of  waicr  fell  from  the  rigging  on  to  the  deck.  The  men  put 
on  +heir  "  sow- wester"  hats,  and  yellow  oiled  cotton  jackets.  Their 
.lair  looked  gray,  as  if  there  had  been  sleet  falling.  There  was  a 
great  change  in  the  temperature— the  weather  appeared  to  have 
suddenly  retrograded  to  April,  not  that  it  was  so  esld,  but  that  it 
was  raw  and  uncomfortable.  We  shut  the  companion-door  to 
keep  It  trom  descending  there,  and  paced  the  deck  and  discoursed 
upon  this  disagreeable  vapov-bath,  its  cause,  its  effects  on  the  con 
stitution,  and  so  on. 

"  It  docs  not  penetrate  far  into  the  country,"  said  the  Doctor 
"and  is  by  no  means  unhealthy,  as  it  is  of  a  different  character 
altogether  from  the  land-fog.     As  an  illustration,  however,  of  its 
density,  and  of  the  short  distance  it  rises  from   the  M-atcr,  I  will 
tell  you  a  o'rcumstance  to  which  I  was  an  eye-witness.     I  was  on 
the  citadel  hill  at  Halifax  once,  and  saw  the  points  of  the  masts  of 
a  mail-steamer  abqve  the  fog,  as  she  was  proceeding  up  the  harbor 
and  1  waited  there  to  ascertain  if  she  could  possibly  escape  Gconn-'s 
Island   which  lay  directly  in  her  track,  but  which  it  was  manifest 
her  pilot  could  not  discern  from  the  deck.     In  a  few  moments  she 
was  stationary.     All  this   f  could  plainly  perceive,  although  the 
hull  of  the  vessel  M'as  invisible.     Some  idea  may  be  formed^of  the 
obscurity  occasioned  by  the  fog,  from  the  absurd  stories  that  were 
waggishly  put  abroad  at  the  time  of  the  accident.     It  was  o-ravelv 
asserted,  that  the  first  notice  the  sentinel  hud  of  her  approa^c-h,  was 
a  poke  in  the  side  from  her  jib-boom,  which  knocked  him  over  into 
the  moat  and  broke  two  of  his  ribs;  and  it  was  also  maintained, 
with  equal  truth,  that  when  she  came  to  the  wharf,  it  was  found 
she  had  b  ought  away  a  small  brass  gun  on  her  bowsprit  which 
like  an  elephant,  she  had  thrust  her  long  trunk  into."  ' 

"Well,"  sais  I,  "let  Halifax  alone  for  that;  there  are  some 
droll  coves  there,  that's  a  fact— many  a  laugh  I  have  had  there,  I 
tell  you  But,  Doctor,"  sais  I,  "just  listen  to  the  noises  on  shore 
here  at  Chesencook.  It's  a  curious  thing  to  hear  the  shout  of  the 
anxious  mother  to  her  vagrant  boy  to  retn-n,  before  night  makes 
It  too  dark  to  fmd  his  way  home,  ain't  ii .  and  to  listen  to  the 
noisy  gambols  of  invisible  children,  the  man  in  the  cluud  bawlincr 
to  lUB  oxen,  as  if  the  fog  had  affected  their  hearing  instead  of  their 
sight,  the  sharp  ring  of  the  axe  at  the  wood-pile,  and  the  barking 
ol  the  dogs  as  they  defy  or  salute  each  othe"— one  I  fiuicy  is  a 


,z-  '■,■'3 


A    FOGGY    NIGHT. 


171 


grumbling  bark,  as  much  as  to  say,  No  sleep  for  us,  old  boy,  to- 
night;  somn  of  these  coasters  will  be  making  Jove  to  our  sheep  as 
they  did  last  week,  if  we  don't  keep  a  bright  look-out.  If  you 
hear  a  fellow  speak  English,  pitch  right  into  the  heretic,  and  bite 
like  a  snapping-turtle  ;  1  always  do  so  in  the  dark,  for  they  can't 
swear  to  you  wnen  they  don't  see  yon.  If  they  don'^  give  me  my 
soup  soon,  (how  like  a  French  dog  that,  ain't  it?)  I'll  have  a  cod- 
fish for  my  supper  to-night  oflTof  old  jodry's  flakes  at  the  other  end 
of  the  harbor,  for  our  mastcx-s  bark  so  loud  they  never  bite,  so  let 
them  accuse  little  Paul  Longille  of  theft.  I  wonder  if  dojis  do 
talk,  Doctor  ?"  said  I. 

"There  is  no  doubt  of  it,"  he  replied.  " I  believe  both  animals 
and  birds  have  some  means  of  communicating  to  each  other  all 
that  is  necessary  for  them — I  don't  go  further.'" 

"  Well,  that's  reasonable,"  sais  I ;  "  I  go  that  figure,  too,  but  not 
a  cent  higher.  Now  there  is  a  nigger,"  sais  I ;  and  I  would  have 
given  him  a  wink  if  I  could,  and  made  a  jupe  of  my  head  towards 
Cutler,  to  show  him  I  was  agoin  to  get  the  Captain's  dander  up  for 
fun;  but  what's  the  use.pf  a  wink  in  a  fug?  In  the  first  place,  it 
aint  easy  to  make  one ;  your  lids  are  so  everlastin'  heavy ;  and 
who  the  plague  can  see  yoi'  if  you  do?  and  if  they  did  notice  it, 
they  would  only  think  you  were  tryin'  to  protect  your  peepers, 
that's  all.  Well,  a  wink  is  no  better  nor  a  nod  to  a  blind  horse  , 
so  1  gave  him  a  nudge  instead.  "  Now,  there  is  the  nieger,  Doc- 
tor," sais  I,  "  do  you  think  he  has  a  soul  ?*  It's  a  questio'n  I  always 
wanted  to  ask  Brother  Eldad,  for  I  never  see  him  a  dissectin'  of  a 
darky.  l{  I  l.ad,  I  r-hould  have  known,  for  rature  has  a  place  for 
everything,  and  everything  in  its  place." 

"  Mr.  Slick,"  said  Cutler— he  never  called  me  Mr.  Slick  before, 
and  it  showed  he  was  mad, — "  do  you  doubt  it?" 

"  No,"  sais  1,  "  I  don't ;  my  only  doubt  is  whether  they  have 
three  ?"  "^ 

'•  "What  in  the  world  do  you  mean  ?"  said  he. 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  two  souls  wo  know  they  have— their  great  flat 
sp'iaw  feet  show  that,  and  as  hard  as  jackasses'  they  are,  too  ;  but 
the  third  is  my  difficulty;  if  they  have  a  soul,  where  is  it?  We 
ahit  jest  satisfied  about  its  locality  in  ourselves.     Is  it  in  the  heart, 

*  This  very  singular  and  inconsequential  rhodomontade  of  Mr.  Slick  is  one 
of  those  startling  pieces  of  levity  that  a  stranger  often  hears  from  a  person  of 
his  class  in  his  travels  on  this  side  of  the  water.  The  odd  mixture  of  strong 
religious  feeling  and  repulsive  looseness  of  conversation  on  serious  subjects, 
which  may  here  and  there  be  found  in  his  diary,  naturally  results  from  a  free 
association  with  persons  of  all  o)r  no  creeds.  It  is  the  niostQb'ectinnable  tr.=iit  in 
his  character — to  reject  it  altogether  would  be  to  vary  the  portrait  he  has  given 
us  of  himself— to  a  ,mit  it  lowers  the  estimate  we  might  otherwise  be  disposed 
to  form  of  him ;  but  as  he  has  often  observed,  what  is  the  use  of  a  sketch  if  it 
be  not  faithful  ? 


172 


A     FOGGT    NIGHT. 


or  the  brain,  or  where  does  it  hang  out  ?     We  know  geest  h^'re 
souls,  and  we  know  where  to  find  them." 

"  Oh,  oh  !"  said  Cutler. 

*'  Cut  off  the  legs  and  wings  and  breast  of  the  goose,"  sais  I 
"and  split  him  down  lengthways,  and  right  agin  the  back-bone  is 
small  ceils,  and  there  is  the  goose's  soul,  it's  black  meat,  pretty 
much  nigger  color.  Oh,  it's  grand  !  It's  the  most  deliaite  part  of 
the  bird.  It's  what  I  always  ask  for  myself,  when  folks  say,  '  Mr 
Shck,  what  part  shall  I  help  you  to— a  slice  of  the  breast,  a  wing 
a  side-bone,  or  a  deacon's  nose,  or  what?'  Everybody  laughs  at 
that  last  word,  especially  if  there  is  a  deacon  at  table,  for  it  s'ounds 
unctuous,  as  he  calls  it,  and  he  can  excuse  a  joke  on  it.  So  he 
laughs  himself,  in  token  of  approbation  of  the  tid-bits  being  reserved 
for  him.  '  Give  me  the  soul,'  sais  I ;  and  this  I  will  say,  a  most 
delicious  thing  it  is,  too.  Now,  don't  groan,  Cutler— keep  that  for 
the  tooth-ache,  or  a  camp-meetin ;  it's  a  waste  of  breath ;  for  as  we 
don  t  exactly  know  where  our  own  souls  reside,  what  harm  is  there 
to  pursue  such  an  interesting  investigation  as  to  our  black  brethren. 
My  private  opinion  is,  if  a  nigger  has  one,>t  is  located  in  his  heel  " 

Well,  sais  I,  "  Cutler,  just  listen  to  reason  now,  just  hear  me ; 
you  have  been  all  round  the  vorld,  but  never  in  it;  now,  I  have 
been  a  great  deal  in  it,  but  don't  care  for  goin'  round  it.  It  don't 
pay  Did  you  ever  see  a  nigger  who  had  the  gout?  for  they  feed 
on  the  best,  and  drink  of  tiiC  best,  when  they  are  household  ser- 
vants down  south,  and  often  have  the  gout.  If  you  have  did  you 
ever  hear  one  say,  'Get  off  my  toes?'  No  never,  nor  any  other 
created  cntter.  They  always  say,  '  Get  off  my  heel.'  They  are 
all  ike  Lucy  Long,  '  when  her  foot  was  in  the  market-house,  her 
heel  was  in  the  street.'  It  is  the  pride  and  boast  of  a  darkey.  His 
head  is  as  thick  as  a  ram's,  but  his  heel  is  very  sensitive.  Now 
does  the  soul  reside  there?  Did  you  ever  study  a  dead  nigger's 
heel,  as  we  do  a  horse's  frog.  All  the  feeling  of  a  horse  is  there. 
Wound  that,  and  he  never  recovers  ;  he  is  foundered— his  heart  is 
broke.  ^  Now,  if  a  nigger  has  a  soul,  and  it  ain't  in  his  gizzard, 
and  can  t  in  natur  be  in  his  skull,  why,  it  stands  to  reason  it  must 
be  in  his  heel." 

"  Oh  Mr.  Slick,"  .-said  Cutler,  "  I  never  thought  I  should  have 
heard  ^this  from  you.     It's  downright  profanity." 

'I  It's  no  such  thing,"  sais  I,  "  it's  merely  a  philosophical  investi- 
gation.  Mr.  Cutler,"  sais  I,  "  let  us  understand  each  other.  I  have 
been  brought  up  by  a  miiuster  as  well  as  you,  and  I  believe  vour 
father,  the  clergyman  at  Barnstable,  was  as  jrood  a  man  as  ever 
Jived ;  but  Barnstable  L-;  a  small  place.  My  dear  old  master,  Mr. 
Hopewell,  was  an  old  mnn  who  had  seen  a  great  deal  in  his  time, 
and  knew  a  great  deal,  iW  h'i  had  gone  through  the  mill." 


,,.,:*.'  'i-^^ 


A     FOGGY     NIGHT, 


173 


"  What  is  that  V  said  he. 

"  Why,"  sais  J,  "  when  he  was  a  boy,  he  was  intended,  like 
Washington,  for  a  land  surveyor,  and  studied  that  branch  of  busi 
riess,  and  was  to  go  to  the  woods  to  lay  out  lots.  Well,  a  day  or 
two  arter  uo  was  diplonmatised  as  a  surveyor,  he  went  to  bathe  in  a 
mill-pond,  and  the  mill  was  agoin'  like  all  statiee,  and  sucked  him 
into  the  flume,  und  he  went  through  into  the  race  below,  and  came 
out  t'other  side  with  both  his  legs  broke.  It  was  a  dreadful  acci- 
dent, and  gave  him  serious  reflections,  for  as  he  lay  in  bed,  he 
thought  he  might  just  as  easily  have  broke  his  neck.  Well,  in  our 
country  about  Slickville,  any  man  arter  that  who  was  wise  and  had 
experience  of  life,  was  said  to  have  gone  through  the  mill.  Do  you 
take  ?" 

But  he  didn't  answer, 

"  Well,  your  father  and  my  good  old  friend  brought  us  both  up 
religiously,  and  I  hope  taught  us  Vhat  was  right.  But,  Mr. 
Cutler » 

"  Don't  call  me  Mr.,"  said  he. 

*'  Well,  Cutler,  then,  I  have  been  '  through  the  mill,'  in  that  sense. 
I  have  acquired  a  knowledge  of  the  world  ;  if  I  havn't,  the  kicks  I 
have  taken  must  have  fallen  on  barren  ground.  I  know  the  chalk 
line  in  life  won't  do  always  to  travel  by.  If  you  go  straight  a  head, 
a  bottomless  quag  or  a  precipice  will  bring  you  up  all  standing  as 
sure  as  fate.  Well,  they  don't  stop  me,  for  I  give  them  the  go-by, 
and  make  a  'evel  line  without  a  tunnel,  or  tubular  bridge,  or  any 
other  scientific  folly  ;  I  get  to  the  end  my  own  way — and  it  aint  a 
slow  one  reither.  Let  me  be,  and  put  this  in  your  pipe.  I  have 
set  many  a  man  straight  before  now,  but  I  never  put  one  on  the 
wrong  road  since  I  was  raised.  I  dare  say  you  have  heard  I  cheated 
in  clocks — I  never  did.  I  have  sold  a  fellow  one  for  five  pounds 
that  cost  me  one  ;  skill  did  that.  Let  him  send  to  London,  and  get 
one  of  Barraud's,  as  father  did,  for  twenty-five  pounds  sterling. 
Will  it  keep  better  time"?  I  guess  not.  Is  that  a  case  of  sell? 
Well,  my  knowledge  of  horse-flesh  aint  to  be  sneezed  at.  I  buy 
one  for  fifty  dollars  and  sell  him  for  two  hundred ;  that's  skill  again 
—it  aint  a  cheat.  A  merchant  thinking  a  Russian  war  inevitable, 
buys  flour  at  four  dollars  a  barrel,  and  sells  it  in  a  month  at  sixteen. 
Is  that  a  fraud  1  There  is  roguery  in  all  trades  hut  our  own.  Let 
me  alone  therefore.  There  is  wisdom  sometimes  in  a  fool's  answer ; 
the  learned  are  simple,  the  ignorant  wise  ;  hear  them  both ;  above 
all,  hear  them  out ;  and  if  they  don't  talk  with  a  looseness,  draw 
them  out.  If  Newman  had  talked  as  well  as  studied,  he  never 
would  have  quitted  his  church.  He  didn't  convince  himself  he  was 
wrong;  he  bothered  himself,  so  he  didn't  at  last  know  right  from 
wrong.  If  other  folks  had  talked  freely,  they  would  have  met  him 
on  the  road,  and  told  him,  '  You  have  lost  your  way,  old  boy  ;  there 


174 


A     POGQT    NIGHT. 


t 


'S  a  river  a-head  of  you,  and  a  very  civil  ferryman  there  ;  he  will 
<ake  you  over  free  gratis  for  nothing ;  but  the  deuce  a  bit  will  he 
6ring  you  back,  there  is  an  embargo  that  side  of  the  water.'  Now- 
let  me  alone ;  1  don't  talk  nonsense  for  nothing,  and  when  you  tack 
this  way  and  that  way,  and  beat  the  '  Black  Hawk'  up  agen  the  wind, 
I  won't  teli  you  you  don't  steer  right  on  end  on  a  bee  line,  and  go 
as  straight  as  a  loon's  leg.     Do  you  take  ?" 

"I  understand  you,"  he  said,  "but  still  I  don't  see  the  use  of 
saying  what  you  don't  mean.  Perhaps  it's  my  ignorance  or  preju- 
dice,  or  whatever  you  choose  to  call  it ;  but  1  dare  say  you  know 
what  you  arc  about." 

"  Cutler,"  sais  1,  » I  warn't  born  yesterday.  The  truth  is,  so 
niuch  nonsense  is  talked  about  niggers^  I  feel  riled  when  1  think  of 
it.  It  actilly  makes  me  feel  spotty  on  the  back.*  When  I  was  to 
London  last,  I  was  asked  to  attend  a  meetin,'  for  foundin'  a  college 
fnr  our  colored  brethren.  Uncle  Tonl  had  set  some  folks  half  crazy, 
and  others  half  mad,  and  what  he  couldn't  do  Aunt  Harriet  did! 
'  Well,'  sais  I  tr  myself,  'is  this  bunkum  or  what  in  natur  is  it? 
If  I  go,  I  shall  be  set  down  as  a  spooney  abolitionist ;  if  I  don't  go, 
1  shall  be  set  down  as  an  overseer  or  nigger  driver,  and  not  a  clock- 
maker.  I  can't  please  nobody  any  way,  and  what  is  wus,  I  don't 
believe  I  shall  please  Mr.  Slick,  no  how  I  can  fix  it.  However,  I 
will  go  and  see  which  way  the  mule  kicks." 

"  Well,  Lord  Blotherumskite  jumps  up,  and  makes  a  speech ;  and 
what  do  you  think  he  set  about  proving?  Why  that  darkies  had 
immortal  souls—  as  if  awy  created  critter  ever  doubted  it !  and  he 
pitched  into  us  Yankees  and  the  poor  colonists  like  a  thousand  of 
bricks.  The  fact  is  the  w\'iy  he  painted  us  both  out,  one  would 
think  he  doubted  whether  we  had  any  souls.  The  pious  galls  turned 
up  the  whites  of  their  eyes  like  ducks  in  thunder,  as  if  they  expected 
drakes  to  full  from  the  skies,  and  the  low  church  folks  called  out, 
hear,  hear,  as  if  they  had  discovered  the  passage  at  the  North  Pole, 
which  I  do  think  might  be  made  of  some  use  if  it  warn't  blocked  up 
with  ice  for  everlastingly.  And  he  talked  of  that  great  big  he  nig- 
ger,  Uncio  Tom  Lavender,  who  was  as  large  as  a  bull  buffalo.  He 
said  he  only  wished  he  was  in  the  House  of  Peers,  for  he  would 
have  astonished  their  lordships.  Well,  so  far  he  was  correct,  for  if 
he  had  been  in  their  hot  room,  I  think  Master  Lavender  would  have 


_  *  This  extraordinary  effect  of  anger  and  fear  on  animals  was  observed  centu- 
ries  before  America  was  discovered.  Statius.  a  writer  who  fully  equals  Mr. 
Slick  both  in  his  affectation  and  bombast,  thus  alludes  to  it  : — 

"  Qualis  ubi  audito  venantum  murmure  tigria, 

Horruit  in  maculas" 
"  As  when  the  tigress  hears  the  hunter's  din, 

Dark  angry  spots  distain  her  glossy  skin." 


A     POGOY     NIGHT. 


i76 


astonished  their  weak  nerves  so,  not  many  would  hove  waited  to  be 
counted.  There  would  soon  have  been  a  dispersion,  but  there  never 
would  have  been  a  division." 

*'  Well,  what  did  you  do  ?"  said  Cutler. 

"  Kept  my  word,"  sais  I,  "  as  I  always  do.  I  seconded  the 
motion,  but  I  gave  them  a  dose  of  common  sense,  as  a  foundation 
to  build  upon.  I  told  them  niggers  must  be  prepared  for  liberty, 
and  when  they  were  sufficiently  instructed  to  receive  and  appreciate 
the  blessing,  they  must  have  elementary  knowledge,  furst  in  religion 
and  then  on  the  useful  u^i  "before  a  college  should  be  attempted, 
and  so  on,  and  then  took  up  my  hat  and  walked  out.  Well,  they 
almost  hissed  me,  and  the  sour  virgins  who  bottled  up  all  their 
humanity  to  pour  out  on  the  niggers,  actilly  pineted  at  me,  and  called 
me  a  Yankee  Pussyite.  I  had  some  capital  stories  to  excite  'em 
with,  but  I  didn't  think  they  were  worth  the  powder  and  shot. 
It  takes  a  great  many  strange  people,  Cutler,"  sais  I,  "-to  make  a 
world.  I  used  to  like  to  put  the  leake  into  folks  wunst,  but  I  have 
given  it  up  in  disgust  now." 

"  Why  ?"  sais  he. 

"  Because,"  sais  I,  "  if  you  put  a  Icakc  into  a  cask  that  haint  got 
much  in  it,  the  grounds  and  settlin's  won't  pay  for  the  trouble. 
Our  people  talk  a  great  deal  of  nonsense  about  emancipation,  but 
they  know  it's  all  bunkum,  and  it  serves  to  palmeteer  on,  and 
makos  a  pretty  party  catch-word.  But  in  England,  it  appears  to 
me,  they  always  like  what  they  don't  understand,  as  njggers  do 
Latin  and  Greek  quotations  in  sermons.  But  here  is  Sorrow.  I 
suppose  tea  is  ready,  as  the  old  ladies  say.  Come,  old  boy,"  sais  I 
to  Cutler,  "  shake  hands ;  we  have  the  same  object  in  view,  but 
sometimes  we  travel  by  different  trains,  that's  all.  Come,  let  us 
go  below.  Ah,  Sorrow,"  sais  I,  "  something  smells  good  here  ;  is 
it  a  moose  steak  ?     Take  off  that  dish-cover." 

"  Ah,  Massa,"  said  he,  as  he  removed  it,  "  dat  are  is  ftibby,  dat 
are  a  foe." 

When  I  looked  at  it,  I  said  very  gravely. 

"  Take  it  away,  Sorrow,  I  can't  eat  it ;  you  have  put  the  salt  and 
pepper  on  it  before  you  broiled  it,  and  drawn  out  all  the  juice.  It's 
as  dry  as  leather.     Take  it  away." 

"  Does  you  tink  it  would  be  a  little  more  better  if  it  was  a  little 
Ijiore  doner,  Sar  ?  People  of  'fmement,  like  you  and  me,  some- 
time differ  in  tastes.  But,  Massa,  as  to  de  salt,  now  how  you  talks  ! 
does  you  railly  tink  dis  here  nigga  hab  no  more  sense  den  one  ob 
dees  stupid  white  fishermen  has  I  No,  Massa;  dis  child  knows  his 
Vr'ork,  and  is  dc  boy  to  do  it,  too.  Vv^hcu  de  steak  is  ecu  amost 
done,  he  score  him  lengthway — dis  way,"  passing  a  finger  of  his 
right  hand  over  the  palm  of  the  left,  "  and  fill  up  de  crack  wid  salt 
aud  pepper,  then  gub  him  one  turn  more,  and  dat  resolve  it  all 


« 


176 


A     FOQGT    NIGHT 


h't 


beautiful.  Oh  no,  Massa,  moose  meat  is  iiaterally  werry  o  ^ ,  like 
Yankee  preacher  when  he  got  no  baccy.  So  1  makes  graby  for 
him.  Oh,  hero  is  some  lulibly  grubv  !  Try  dis,  Massa.  My  old 
Tu'  siis  in  Varginy  was  werry  patticuiar  about  her  graby.  She 
uf'jn  to  say,  'Sorrow,  it  tante  fine  clothes  makes  de  gentleman,  but 
a  delicate  taste  for  soups,  and  grabys,  and  currys.  Barbacucs, 
roast  pigs,  salt  meat,  and  such  coarse  tings,  is  only  fit  for  Congress, 
men.'  J  kinsait  my  graby,  Massa,  is  done  to  de  turn  ob  a  hair,  for 
dis  child  is  a  rambitious  nigga.  Fust,  Massa,  I  puts  in  a  lump  ob 
butter  'ijoi't  s:':e  ob  piece  ob  chalk,  and  a  glass  ob  water,  and  deu 
'prini  !c  in  Hour  to  laake  it  look  like  milk,  den  put  him  on  fire,  and 
when  he  hiss,  stir  him  wid  spoon  to  make  him  hush ;  den  I  adds 
inion,  dat  is  fust  biled  to  take  off  de  'trong  taste,  'eetle  made  mus- 
tard, and  a  pinch  ob  most  elegant  super-superor  yellow  snuff." 

"  Snuff,  you  rascal !"  said  1,  "  how  dare  you?  Take  it  away  — 
throw  it  overboard !  Oh,  Lord  !  to  think  of  eating  snuff!  Was 
there  ever  anything  half  so  horrid  since  the  world  began  ?  Sorrow, 
I  thought  you  had  better  broughtens  up." 

"  Well,  now,  Massa,"  said  he,  "  does  you  tink  dis  nigga  hab  no 
soul  ?"  and  he  went  to  the  locker,  and  broOght  out  a  small  square 
pint  bottle,  and  said,  "  smell  dat,  Massa ;  dat  are  oliriferous,  dat 
are  a  fac." 

"  Why,  that's  curry-powder,"  I  said.  "  Why  don't  you  call 
things  by  their  right  name  ?" 

"  Massa,"  said  he,  with  a  knowing  wink,  "  det^e  is  more  snuff  den 
is  made  ofbacce,  dat  are  an  undoubtable  fac.  De  scent  ob  dat  is  so 
good,  I  can  smell  it  ashore  amost.  Den,  Massa,  when  graby  is  all 
ready,  and  distrained  beautiful,  dis  child  warms  him  up  by  de  fire 
and  stirs  him ;  but,"  and  he  put  his  finger  on  his  nose,  and  looked 
me  full  in  the  face,  and  paused,  "  but  Massa,  it  must  be  stir  all  de 
one  way,  or  it  iles  up,  and  de  debbil  hisself  won't  put  him  right  no 
more." 

"  Sorrow,"  sais  I,  "  you  don't  know  nothin'  about  your  business. 
Suppose  it  did  get  iled  up,  any  fool  could  set  It  right  in  a  minute." 
"  Yes,  yes,  Massa,"  he  said,  "1  know.  I  abdone  it  myself  often 
— drink  it  all  up,  and  make  it  ober  again,  until  all  right  wunst 
more  ;  sometimes  I  drink  him  up  de  matter  ob  two  or  tree  times 
before  he  get  quite  right." 

"  No,"  sais  I,  "  take  it  off  the  fire,  add  two  spoonfuls  of  cold 
water,  heat  it  again,  and  stir  it  the  right  way,  and  it  is  as  straiglit 
as  a  boot-jack." 

"  Well,  Massa,"  said  he,  and  he  showed  an  unusual  quantity  of 
white  in  his  eyes^  "well.  Massiu  vou  is  actillv  riyht.     Mv  old  mis- 
dat  secret  herself,  and  I  did 


taught 


illy 


soul  but  me  and  she  in  de  whole  univarsal  United  States  did  k 


dat  are,  for  I  take  my  oat  on  my  last  will  and  testament,  I 


now 
nebber 


A     FOOOY     NIGHT. 


177 


tole  nobody.     Bui,  Massa,"  said  he,  "  I  ab  twenty  different  ways 

ay,  fifty  different  ways,  to  make  graby,  but,  at  sea,  one  must  do  de 
best  he  can  with  nottirt  to  do  with,  and  when  nottin  is  simmered  a 
week  in  nf)ttin  by  de  fire,  it  don't  take  long  to  sarve  him  up.  Massa, 
if  you  will  scuze  me,  1  will  tell  you  what  dis  here  nigga  tinks  on 
de  subject  ob  his  perfession.  Some  grand  folks,  like  Missus,  and  de 
Queen  ob  England  and  de  Emperor  ob  Roosia,  may  bo  fust  chop 
cooks,  and  I  won't  deny  de  fac ;  and  no  taxes  to  'em,  for  dere  sauce 
pans  is  all  silber  and  gold;  but  I  have  'skivered  dey  don't  knov 
niifiin'  about  do  ri^ht  way  to  eat  tings  after  dey  has  gone  done 'em. 
Mo  and  Miss  Phillesy  Anne,  de  two  confdential  sarvants,  allers 
had  de  dinner  sent  into  our  room  when  missus  done  gone  feedin'. 
Missus  was  worry  kind  to  us,  and  we  neber  stinted  her  in  nuffin'. 
I  allers  gib  her  one  bottle  wine,  and  no-he-no  more  den  was  possi- 
ble for  her  and  her  company  to  want,  and  in  course  good  conduct 
is  allers  rewarded,  cause  we  had  what  was  left.  Well,  me  and 
Miss  Phillis  used  to  dress  up  hansum  for  dinner,  to  set  good  sample 
to  niggars,  and  two  ob  de  colored  waiters  tended  on  us. 


'65' 

"So 


one  day,  said  Miss  Phillis  to  me :  '  What  shall  I  ab  de 
honor  to  help  yaw  to,  Mr.  Sorrow.' 

"  '  Aunt  Phillis,'  sais  I,  '  skuse  me  one  minit,  I  ab  made  a  grand 
skivery.' 

" '  What  is  dat,  uncle,'  sais  she,  '  you  is  so  clobber !  I  clare  you 
is  wort  you  weight  in  gold.  What  in  natur  would  our  dear  Missus 
do  widout  you  and  me ;  for  it  was  me  skivoied  how  to  cure  de 
pip  in  chickens,  and  make  de  eggs  all  hatch  out  roosters  or  hens; 
and  how  to  souse  young  turkeys  like  young  children,  in  cold  water, 
but  what  is  your  wention,  Mr.  Sorrow  V 

"  '  Why,'  sais  I,  'auntv— what  does  you  see  out  ob  dat  winder, 
Sambo  ?  you  imperent .  jal — Nuffin,  Sar.  Well,  you  black  nigga, 
if  you  stare  bout  dat  way,  you  will  see  yourself  fllogged  next  time. 
If  you  ab  no  manners,  I  must  teach  you  for  de  credit  ob  de  plan- 
tation ;  hold  a  plate  to  Miss  Phillis  right  away.  Why,  aunty,' 
sais  I,  '  dis  is  de  skivery  :  a  house  must  have  solid  foundation,  but  a 
dinner  a  soft  one — on  count  ob  uisgestion  ;  so  I  begins  wid  custard 
and  jelly,  (dey  tastes  werry  well  together,  and  are  light  on  de 
stomac ;)  den  I  takes  a  glass  ob  whisky  to  keep  em  from  turnin 
sour ;  dat  is  de  first  step.  Sambo,  pour  me  out  some.  Second 
one  is  presarves,  ices,  fruits — strawljerry  and  cream,  or  mustache- 
churnings  (pistachio  cream),  and  if  dey  is  skilful  stowed,  den  de 
cargo  don't  shift  under  de  hatches — arter  dat  comes  punkin  pie, 
pineapple  tarts,  and  raspberry  charlotte.' 

lur.  Sorrow,'  sals  aunty,  '  i's  actilly  ashamed  ob  you  to  name 
a  dish  arter  a  yaller  gall  dat  way,  and  call  it  charlotte  ;  it's  onde- 
cent,  specially  afore  dese  niggars.' 
8* 


*178 


A     FOGGY     NIOIIT 


rl' 


id 


H 


II 


"  ♦  Law,  sakcs,'  sais  I,  "  M'ns  Phillis,  does  you  tlnk  I  »b  no 
I  hate  a  yaller  gall  as  I  do  a  pyson.' 


4enao 


"  '  So  do  I,'  said  she,  '  dey  is  neider  chalk  nor  cheese ;  (ley  is  a 
discrrace  to  do  plantation  dey  is  on ;  but  raspberry  charlotte  is  a 
name  I  nebber  heard  tell  ob  for  a  dish.    W  hy  how  you  talks,'  sua  I. 

"  Well,  den  is  de  time  for  fish,  such  as  si  swed  rocks.' 

"  '  Now  you  is  a  funncn,'  sais  aunty,  '  isn't  you  ]  IIow  on  airth 
do  you  stew  rocks?  yah!  yah!  yah! ' 

"  ♦  Easy  as  kiss  my  hand  to  you,'  sais  I,  •  and  if  dere  be  no  hsh, 
rand  dat  ^hite  Yankee  oberseer  is  so  cussed  lazy,  hout  catchin  of 
thorn,  1  laust  slruct  Missus  to  discharge  him,)  den  dere  is  two  nice 
little  genteel  dishes,  '  birds  in  de  grobo,'  and  '  plovev  on  de  shore,' 
and  den  top  offwid  soup;  and  I  ain't  pr.rticular  about  dat,  so  long 
as  I  ab  de  best ;  and  dat.  Miss  Phillis,  makes  a  grand  soft  bed,  you 
see,  for  stantials  like  beef  or  mutton,  or  ham,  or  venson,  to  lay 

down  easy  on.' 

"  '  Well,  you  is  a  wonderful  man,  Mr.  Sorrow,  I  do  r?ally  tuik 
dat  stands  to  reason  and  experience,'  sais  Miss  Thellis.  When  I 
marred  my  fiff  husband— no,  it  warn't  r-y  riff,  it  was  my  sixth— I 
had  lubly  "baby  tree  month  six  weeks  ok,  and  my  old  man  killed 
it  maken  speriments.  He  would  give  it  soup,  and  minced  veal  to 
make  it  trong.  Sais  I,  '  Mr.  Caesar,  dat  aint  natur ;  fust  you  know 
it  must  ab  milk,  den  pap,  and  so  on  in  i  rder.'  Says  he,  '  I  alius 
feeds  master's  young  bull-dogs  on  raw  meat.  Weli,  Cffisar  died 
same  night,  child  did,'  (and  she  gub  mc  a  wink ;)  'sunthen  dis- 
agreed wid  him  also  that  he  eat.'  '  Oh  Massa,'  he  ( ontinued,  '  bears 
dat  ab  cubs,  and  women  dat  ab  childeni,  is  dangerous.  '  Mr.  Sor- 
row,'  said  she,  '  dat  is  a  great  skivery  of  yourn  j  you'd  best  tell 

Missus.' 

"  '  I  is  most  afeard  she  is  too  much  slave  to  fashion,  sais  I. 

" '  Uncle,  said  she,  '  you  mustn't  say  dat  ob  dear  Miss  Lunn,  or 
I  must  decline  de  onor  to  dine  wid  you.  It  aint  speetful.  ?ir. 
Sorrow,  my  missus  aint  de  slave  ob  fashion— she  sets'  it,  bygoJiy ! ' 
and  she-  stood  up  quite  dignant. 

"  '  Sambo,  clar  out  ob  dis  dinen  room  quick  stick,'  sais  I  to  de 
waiter  ;  '  you  is  so  fond  ob  looken  out  on  de  field,  you  shall  go 
work  dere,  you  lazy  hound ;  walk  out  ob  de  room  dis  minit ;  when 
I  has  finished  my  dinner,  I  will  make  you  jine  de  labor  gan^.  Miss 
PLillis,  do  resume  your  seat  agin,  you  is  right  as  you  alius  is ;  shall 
1  ab  de  honor  to  take  glass  ob  wine  wid  you.' 

"  Now,  Massa,  try  dat  skivery ;  you  will  be  able  to  eat  tree 
times  as  much  as  you  do  now.     Arter  dat  invention,  I  used  to 


^»j 


)y  my  sleep  grand.    I  went  into  dc  hottest  p 


'ace  in  '^' 


— ^   laid 


up  my  face  to  him,  and  sleep  like  a  cedar  stump,  b'     den  I  alius 


put  my  vei 


1  on. 


To  keep  the  flies  off  ?  "  said  I. 


A     FOGGY    NIGHT. 


1T9 


tlnk  I  ab  no 


venson,  to  lay 


bi'-.  den  I  alius 


"'.ord  gracious!  no,  master,  dey  nebber  trouble  me;  day  is 
afi  iid  in  do  dark,  and  when  dey  sec  me,  dey  tink  it  is  night,  and 

'•  What  is  the  use  of  it,  then?" 

"T)  save  my  complexion,  massa;  I  is  afraid  it  will  fade  white. 

■>  J.  '  ah,  yah  !  " 

e  wo  were  eng„ged  in  eating  our  strak,  he  put  some  glasses 
on  tue  table  and  handed  mo  a  blaok  bottle,  about  two  thirds  full, 
.Ml.  '  suid  '  massa,  dis  hero  fog  ab  got  down  my  troat,  ard  up  into 
ay  Head,  and  most  kill  me,  I  can't  tell  wedder  dat  is  wine  or  rum, 
lis  almost  gwine  almost  distracted.  Will  massa  please  to  tell 
me  ?  " 

\  knew  what  he  was  at,  so  sais  I,  "  If  you  can't  smell  it,  taste 
it. '  Well,  he  poured  a  glass  so  full,  nobody  but  a  nigger  could 
have  reached  his  mouth  with  it,  without  spilling.  When  he  1  ' 
swallowed  it  he  looked  still  more  puzzled. 

"  Peers  to  m.e,"  he  said,  "  dat  is  wine,  he  is  so  mild,  and  den  it 
'peers  to  me  it's  rum,  for  when  it  gets  down  to  do  stomach  he  feel 
so  good.  But  dis  child  ab  lost  his  taste,  ^'is  smell,  and  his  finement, 
altogeddcr.'' 

lie  then  poured  out  another  bumper,  and  as  soon  as  he  had 
tossecl  it  off,  said,  "  dat  is  de  clear  grit ;  dat  is  oleriferous— wake 
de  dead  almost,  it  is  de  genuine  piticular  old  Jamaicky,  and  no 
(nistako.  J  must  put  dat  bottle  back  and  give  you  todder  one,  dat 
<nust  be  wine  for  sartain,  for  it  is  chock  full,  but  rum  'vaporrtes 
<3ery  fast  when  de  cork  is  drawn.  Missus  used  to  say,  '  Sorrow, 
meat,  when  kept,  comes  bery  high,  but  rum  gets  benj  low.''  " 

"  Happy  fellow  and  lucky  fellow  too,  for  what  white  man  in 
/our  situation  would  be  treated  so  kindly  and  familiarly  as  you 
are.  The  fact  is,  Doctor,  the  negroes  of  America,  as"  a  class, 
whether  slaves  or  free  men,  experience  more  real  consideration, 
and  are  more  comfortable  than  the  peasants  of  almost  any  country 
lu  Europe.  Their  notions  of  the  c.^gin  of  white  men  are  very 
droll,  when  the  things  are  removed  I  will  make  him  gire  you  his 
id  ear  on  the  subject. 

"  Sorrow,"  said  I,  "  what  color  was  Adam  and  Eve." 

"  Oh,  massa,"  said  he,  "  don't  go  for  to  ask  dis  child  what  you 
knows  yourself,  better  nor  what  he  does.  I  will  tell  you  some 
Oder  time,  1  is  berry  poorly  just  now,  dit^  uncountable  fog  ab  got; 
into  my  bones.  Dis  is  shocking  bad  country  fur  niggars;  oh, 
dere  is  noffin  like  de  lubly  sout ;  it's  a  nateral  home  for  blackies. 

If  de  white  man  will  only  plant  his  toe, 
D-jn  dey  waier  de  ground  wid  baccy  smoke, 
And  out  ob  de  soil  dere  heads  will  poke. 

Ring  de  hoop,  blow  de  horn, 

I  nebber  see  de  like  since  I  was  bom, 


iiraTfjafiif 


mSSm 


180 


A     FOQOY     NIGH  7'. 

Way  down  in  de  counte-ree, 

Four  or  five  mile  from  de  ole  Peedee. 


(C 


m 


Oh,  L.^^ssa,  dis  coast  is  only  fit  for  seals,  porpoises,  and  dog- 
fish,^ but  not  for  gentlemen,  nor  niggars,  nor  ladies.  Oh,  1  berA 
bad,"  and  he  pressed  both  hands  on  his  stomach  \s  if  he  was  in 
great  pain. 

"  Perhaps  another  glass  of  old  Jamaica  would  set  you  right,"  1 

"  Massa,  Avhat  a  most  a  grand  doctor  you  wou'id  ab  made,"  he 
said.  "  Yah,  yah,  yah— you  know  de  wery  identical  medicine  for 
de  wery  identical  disease,  don't  you;  dat' is  just  what  natur  was 
callin'  for  eber  so  bad." 

"  Naiur,"  sais  I,  "what's  that,  spell  it." 

"  R  u  m,"^  said  he,  "  dat  is  human  natur,  and  whiskey  is  soft 
sawder,  it  tickle  de  troat  so  nice  and  go  down  so  slick.     Dem  is 
de  names  ray  old  missus  used  to  gib  em.     Oh,  how  she  would  a 
lubb'd  you,  if  you  had  spunked  up  to  her  and  tied  up  to  our  plan- 
tatioi.' ;  she  didn't  affection  Yankees  much,  for  dem  and  dead  nig- 
gers is  too  cold  to  sleep  with,  and  cunnuchs  (Canadians)  she  hated 
like  pison,  cp.use  they  'ticed  off  niggars  ;  but  she'd  a  took  to  you 
naterally,  you  is  such  a  good  cook.     I  always  tink,  Massa,  when 
folks  take  to  eaten  same  breakfast,  same  lunch,  same  dinner,  same 
tea,  same  supper,  drinkin'  same  soup,  lubbin'  same  graby,  and 
'fectioning,  same  presarves  and  pickles,  nnd  cakes  and  pies,  and 
wine,  and  cordials,  and  ice-creams,  den  dey  plaguy  soon  begin  to 
rambition  one  anodder,  and  when  dey  do  dat",  dey  is  sure  to  say, 
'  Sorrow,  does  you  know  how  to  make  weddin'  cake,  and  frost  him, 
and  set  him  off  partikelar  jam,  wid  vices  of  all  kinds,  little  koopids, 
and  cocks  and  hens,  and  bales  of  cotton,  figs  of  baccy,  and  ears  of 
corn,  and  all  -orts  of  pretty  things  done  in  clarified  sugar.     It  do 
seem  nateral  to  me,  for  when  oue*  young  niggars  go  sparkin',  and 
spendin'  evenings,  dey  most  commonly  marries,     it  stand  to  rea- 
son.    But,  massa  I  is  bery  bad  indeed  wid  dis  dreadful  pain  in  my 
infernal  parts— I  is  indeed.     "  Oh,"  said  he  smackin'  his  lips,  and 
drainin'  his  glass,  "  dat  is  Cef  to  a  white  man,  but  life  to  a  riggar; 
dat  is  sublime.     What  a  pity  it  is  dey  make  de  glasses  so  almighty 
tunderin'  small;    de  man  dat  inwented  dem  couldn't  a  had  no 
remaginable  nose  at  all,  dat  are  a  fac." 
"  But  the  color  of  Adam,"  said  I. 

"  Oh,  Massa,"  he  said,  "  you  knows  bery  well  he  was  a  bhick 
gentleman,  and  Misses  Eve  a  most  splendid  Swanga  black  lady. 
Oh,  yes,  massa,  dey  were  made  black  to  enjoy  de  grand  warm 
sun.  Well,  Cain  was  a  wicked  man,  cause  he  killed  his  brudder. 
So  de  ^.ord  say  to  him  one  day,  '  Cain,  where  is  your  brudder?' 
*  I  don't  know,  massa,'  said  he,  '  I  didn't  see  him  nowhere.'     Well, 


A.    FOaGl     Nl&Hr 


181 


de  next  time  he  asked  him  de  sef-same  question,  and  he  answered 
quite  sarcy,  '  How  in  de  world  does  I  know  'I  I  &mt  my  brudder'a 
keeper.'  Well,  afore  he  know'd  where  he  was,  de  Lord  said  to  him 
in  a  voice  ob  tunder,  'You  murder'd  him,  you  viilaia!'  And 
Cain,  he  was  so  scared,  he  turned  white  dat  very  inGtant  He 
nebber  could  stand  heat,  nor  enjoy  summer  no  more  again,  nor 
none  ob  his  childer  arter  him,  but  Abel's  children  remain  blnck  to 
dis  day.  Fac,  massa,  fac,  1  does  assure  you.  When  vou  like 
Slipper,  massa  ?"  "^ 

"  At  ten  o'clock,"  sais.  r. 

"  VVcll  den,  I  will  go  and  get  sunthen  nice  for  ou.  Oh '  mv 
ole  Missus  was  a  lubbly  cook ;  I  don't  believe  in  my  heart  de 
Queen  ob  England  could  hold  a  candle  to  her !  she  knowed  twenty 
two  and  a  half  ways  to  cook  Indian  corn,  and  ten  or  twelve  ob  'em 
she  inwented  herself  dat  was  de  astonishment  ob  ebbery  one  " 

'  _Why,  M-issa,  de  common  slommachy  way  people  ab  ob  boil- 
ing It  on  de  cob  ;  dat  she  said  was  only  half  a  way.  Oh  Lordy 
pacious,  one  way  she  wented,  de  corn  was  as  white  as  snow  as 
light  as  puff,  and  so  delicate  it  disgested  itself  in  de  mout  "       ' 

"  You  can  gj,"  said  Cutler. 

"  Tankee,  Massa,"  said  Sorrow,  with  a  mingled  air  of  submission 
and  fun,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  I  guess  I  don't  want  leave  for  that 
but  I  tnank  you  all  the  same  as  if  I  did,"  and  making  a  scrape  of 
his  hind-leg,  he  retired. 

"Slick,"  said  Cutler,  "  it  isn't  right  to  allow  that  nigger  to 
swallow  so  much  rum.     How  can  one  wonder  at  their  degradation 
whc>a  a  man  like  you  permits  them  to  drink  in  that  mann^'er  ?"       ' 

"  ^,T?-K  '^'',  ^'  ';  ^^"  ^^^"'^  •'^"^  ^^"^  ^^ke  all  abolitionists,  as 
niy  old  fnend  Co  onel  Crockett  used  to  say,  the  Yankees  always 
do.  He  said  'When  they  sent  them  to  pick  their  cherries,  they 
made  them  histle  all  the  time,  so  that  they  couldn't  eat  any  '  I 
understand  blacus  better  than  you  do.  Lock  up  your  Hquor'and 
they  will  steal  it,  for  their  moral  perceptions  are  weak  Trust 
them,  and  teach  them  to  use,  and  not  to  abuse  it.  Do  that  and 
they  will  be  grateful,  and  prove  themselves  trustworthy  That 
ellow  s  drinking  is  more  for  the  fun  of  the  thing,  than  the  love  of 
iquor.  Negroes  are  not  drunkards  anywhere.'  They  are  droll 
boys  ;  but.  Cutler,  long  before  thrashing-machines  were  invented 
there  was  a  command,  '  not  to  muzzle  the  ox  that  treadeth  out  the 
corn.  Fut  that  in  your  pipe,  my  boy,  the  next  time  you  prepare 
your  Kinmkennie  tor  smoking,  will  you?"  ^      x-    i 

I'  Kinnikennic,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  what  under  tue  sun  is  thaf?" 
•  A  ccmposition,"  sais  I,  "  of  dry  leaves  of  certain  aromatic 
plants  and  barks  of  various  kinds  of  trees,  an  excellent  substitute 
tor  tobacco,  but  when  mixed  with  it,  something  super-superior 


•.,r— 


»  t 


182 


FEMALE     COLLEGES. 


If  we  can  get  into  the  woods,  I  will  show  you  how  to  prepare  it. 
But,  Doctor,"  sais  J,  "  I  build  no  theories  on  the  subject  of  the 
Africans ;  I  leave  their  construction  to  other  and  wiser  men  than 
myself.  Here  is  a  sample  of  the  raw  material ;  can  it  be  manu- 
factured into  civilization  of  a  higher  order  ?  Q  stands  for  query, 
don't  it  ?  Well,  all  J  shall  do  is  tn  put  a  Q  to  it,  and  let  politi' 
clans  answer  it ;  but  I  can't  help  thinking  there  is  some  truth  in  the 
old  saw  '  where  ignorance  is  blijs,  'tis  folly  to  be  wise.''  " 


f  m 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


FEMALE    COLLEGES, 


After  Sorrow  had  retired,  we  lighted  our  cigars,  and  turned  to 
for  a  chat,  if  chat  it  can  be  called  where  I  did  most  of  the  talking 
myself. 

"  Doctor,"  said  I,  "  I  wish  I  had  had  more  time  to  b'^.ve  exam- 
ined  your  collection  of  minerals.  I  had  no  idea  Nova  Scotia  could 
boast  of  such  an  infinite  variety  of  them.  Yo^i  could  have  taught 
me  more  in  conversation  in  five  minutes  than  I  could  have  leariied 
by  books  in  a  month.  You  are  a  mineralogist,  and  I  am  sorry  to 
say  I  aint,  though  every  boarding-school  miss,  now-a-days,  in  our 
country,  consaits  she  is.  They  are  up  to  tra2)  at  any  rate,  if 
nothing  else,  you  may  depend,"  and  I  gave  him  a  wink. 

"  Now  don't,  Slick,"  said  he,  "  now  don't  set  me  off,  that's  a  good 
fellow." 

"  'Mr.  Slick,'  said  a  young  lady  of  about  twelve  years  of  age,  to 
me  wunst,  '  do  you  know  what  gray  wackey  is  1  for  I  do.' 

"  Don't  I  ? '  sais  I ;  '  I  know  it  to  my  cost.  Lord  !  how  my  old 
master  used  to  lay  it  on  ! ' 

"  '  Lay  it  on  ! '  she  said  ;  '  I  thought  it  reposed  on  a  primitive 
bed  overlaid  by  salacious  rocks.' 

"  '  Silicious  is  the  word,  dear.' 

"  '  No,  it  aint,'  said  she ;  '  and  I  ought  to  know,  for  the  prese- 
dentess  (Professor)  calls  it  salacious,' 

"  '  Well,  well,'  sais  I,  '  we  won't  dispute  about  words.  Still,  if 
anybody  knows  what  gray  wackey  is,  I  ought,  but  I  don't  find  it  so 
easy  to  repose  after  it  as  you  may.  Gray  means  the  gray  birch 
rod,  dear,  and  wackey  means  layin'  it  on.  We  always  called  it 
gray  whacky  in  school,  when  a  feller  was  catching  particular 
Moses.' 

" '  Why,  how  ignorant  you  are ! '  said  she.  '  Do  you  know 
what  therii  mining  tarms,  clinch^  pariing^  aud  black  hat  means  V 


*',* 


FEMALE     COLLEGES. 


185 


to  prepare  it. 
subject  of  the 
iser  men  than 
11  it  be  manu- 
ids  for  query, 
and  let  politU 
e  truth  in  the 


md  turned  to 
)f  the  talking 

3  bf'.ve  exam- 
i  Scotia  could 
I  have  taught 
have  leariicd 

am  sorry  to 
■days,  in  our 

any  rate,  if 
k. 
that's  a  good 

ars  of  age,  to 

do.' 

how  my  old 

1  a  primitive 


3r  the  prese- 

ds.  Still,  if 
)n't  find  it  so 
le  gray  birch 
ays  called  it 
g   particular 

)  you  know 
means  I ' 


Why,  in  course  I  do  !'  sai^I ;  '  clinch  is  marrying,  parting  is 
gettitig  divorced,  and  black  bat  is  where  a  fellow  beats  his  wife  black 
and  blue.' 

"  '  Poch !'  said  she,  "  you  don't  know  nothing." 

" '  Well,'  sals  I,  '  what  do  you  knowl' 

"  '  Why,'  said  she,  '  1  know  Spanish  and  m"  ".ematics,  ichthiology 
and  concholOj»y,  astronomy  and  dancing,  ni...eraIogy  and  animal 
magnetism,  and  German  and  chemistry,  and  French  and  botany. 
Yes,  and  the  use  of  globes  too.  Can  you  tell  me  what  attraction 
and  repulsion  is ?' 

"  '  To  be  sure  I  can,'  said  I,  '  and  I  drew  her  on  my  knee,  and 
kissed  her.  'That's  attraction,  clear.'  And  when  she  kicked  and 
screamed  as  cross  as  two  cats,  '  that,  my  pretty  one,'  I  said,  '  is 
repulsion.  Now  I  know  a  great  many  things  you  don't.  Can  you 
hem  a  pocket-handkerchief?' 

"'No.' 

" '  Nor  make  a  pudding  V 

" '  No.' 

' "  Nor  make  Kentucky  batter]' 

" '  No.' 

"  '  Well,  do  you  know  any  useful  thing  in  life  V 

"  Yes,  I  do ;  I  can  sing,  and  play  on  the  piano,  and  write  valen- 
tines,'  sais  she,  '  so  get  out.'  And  she  walked  away,  quite 
dignified,  muttering  to  herself,  '  Make  a  pudding,  eh !  well,  I 
want  to  know  !' 

"  Thinks  I  to  myself,  my  pretty  little  may-flower,  in  this  ever- 
lastin' progressive  nation  ofourn,  where  the  wheel  of  fortune  never 
stops  turning  day  or  night,  and  them  that's  at  the  top  o?  .  minute 
are  down  in  the  dirt  the  next,  you  may  say  '  I  want  to  know' 
before  you  die,  and  be  very  glad  to  change  your  iane,  and  say, 
'  Thank  heaven  I  do  know  !'  " 

"Is  that  a  joke  of  yours,"  sa'd  the  doctor,  "abtut  the  young 
girl's  geology,  or  is  it  really  a  fact  ?'' 

"Fact,  r  assure  you,"  said  I.  ''And  to  prove  't  "11  tell  you  a 
story  about  a  Female  College  that  will  shew  yo'i  what  pains  we 
take  to  spoil  our  young  ladies  to  home.  Aliss  T.idd;  Adams,  who 
vV'as  proprietor  and  'dentess  (presidentess)  m  ■  /emale  College 
to  Onionville,  was  a  relation  of  moth^^r's,  ana  ^  knew  her  when  she 
was  quite  a  young  shoat  of  a  thing  to  Slicifville.  I  shall  never 
forget  a  flight  into  Egypt  I  caused  once  in  ^^cr  establishment. 
When  I  returned  from  the  embassy,  I  stopped  a  day  in  Onionville, 
near  her  university — for  that  was  the  name  she  gave  hern ;  and 
thinks  I,  I  will  just  call  and  look  in  on  Lid  for  old  acquaintance 
sake,  and  see  how  she  is  figuring  it  out  hi  life.  Well,  I  raps  away 
with  the  knocker,  as  loud  as  poss;bie,  :  s  much  as  to  say,  make 
haste,  for  there  is  somebody  here,  when  a  tall  spare  gall  with 


:*M  . 


184 


FEMALE     COLLEGES. 


ww^ 


a  vinegar  face,  opened  the  door  just  wide  enough  to  show  he*- 
profile,  and  hide  her  back  gear,  and  stood  to  hear  what  I  had  to 
say.  I  never  see  so  spare  a  gall  since  1  was  raised.  Pharaoh's 
lea  kinewarn't  the  smallest  part  of  a  circumstance  to  her.  She 
was  so  thin,  she  actilly  seemed  as  if  she  would  have  to  lean  agin 
the  wall  to  support  herself  when  she  scolded,  and  I  had  to  look 
twice  at  her  before  I  could  see  her  at  all,  for  I  warn't  sure  she 
warn't  her  own  ahadow.''^ 

"  Good  gracious  !"  said  the  Doctor,  "  what  a  description  !  but 
go  on." 

"  '  Is  the  mistress  at  home  V  said  I. 

"  '  I  have  no  mistress,'  said  she. 

'"I  didn't  say  you  had,' sais  F, 'for  I  knew  you  hadn't  afore 
you  spoke.' 

"  '  How  did  yon  kno\v  that  V  said  she. 

"  '  Because,'  sais  1,  '  seein'  so  handsome  a  lady  as  you,  I  thought 
you  was  one  of  the  professors ;  and  then  I  thought  you  must%e 
the  mistress  herself,  and  was  a  thinking  how  likely  she  had  grow'd 
since  I  seed  her  last.     Are  you  one  of  the  class-teachers  V 

"  It  bothered  her  ;  she  didn't  know  whether  it  was  impudenco 
or  admiration ;  but  tvhcn  a  woman  arbitrates  on  a  case  ahe  is 
interested  in,  she  always  gives  an  award  in  her  own  favor. 

" '  Walk  in.  Sir,'  said  she,  '  and  [  will  see,'  and  she  backed  and 
backed  before  me,  not  out  of  deference  to  me,  but  to  the  hooks  of 
her  gown,  and  threw  a  door  open.  On  the  opposite  side  was  a 
large  room  fdled  with  galls,  peeping  and  looking  over  each  other's 
shoulders  at  me,  for  it  was  intermission. 

"  '  Are  these  your  pupils  V  sais  I ;  and  before  she  could  speak,  I 
went  right  past  into  the  midst  of  'em.  Oh,  what  a  scuddin'  and 
screamin'  there  was  among  them!  A  rocket  explodiu'  there 
couldn't  a'  done  more  mischief  They  tumbled  over  chairs, 
upsot  tables,  and  went  head  and  heels  over  each  other  like  any- 
thing, shouting  out,  '  A  man  !  a  man !' 

"  '  Where— where  V  sais  I,  a-chasin'  of  them,  '  show  him  to  me, 
and  I'll  soon  clear  him  out.     What  is  he  a-doing  of?' 

"  It  was  the  greatest  fun  you  ever  see.  Out  they  flew  through 
the  door  at  the  other  eend  of  the  room,  S';me  up  and  some  down- 
stairs, singing  out,  '  A  man!  a  man!'. till  I  thought  they  would 
have  hallooed  their  daylights  out.  Away  I  flew  after  them,  calling 
out,  '  Where  is  he  ?  show  him  to  me,  and  I'll  soon  pitch  into  him  V 
when  who  should  I  see  but  Miss  Liddy  in  the  entry,  as  stiff*  and  as 
starch  as  a  stand-up  shirt  collar  of  a  frosty  day.  She  looked  like 
a  large  pale  icicle,  standing  up  on  its  broad  end,  and  cold  enough 
to  give  you  ^    .  ague  to  look  at  her. 

" '  Mr.  Slick,'  said  she,  '  may  I  ask  what  is  the  meaning  of  all 
this  unseemly  behavior  in  the  presence  of  young  ladies  of  the  first 
families  in  tho  State  V 


FEMALE     COLLEGES 


185 


1  hadn't  aforo 


waning  of  all 
s  of  the  first 


"Says  I,  'Miss  Adam,'  for  as  she  used  the  word  Mr  as  a 
handle  to  me,  I  thought  I'dc  take  a  pull  at  the  Miss,  '  some  robber 
or  house-breaker  has  got  in,  1  rather  think,  and  scared  the  youn^r 
kmemae  students,  for  they  seemed  to  be  running  after  somebody'' 
and  1  thought  I  would  assist  them.' 

"' May  I  ask,  Sir,'  a-drawin'  of  herself  up  to  her  full  height,  as 
straight  and  as  prim  as  a  Lombardy  poplar,  or  rather,  a  bull-rush 
for  that  s  all  one  size.     '  May  I  ask,  Sir,  what  is  the  object  of  your 
visit  here— at  a  plaice  where  no  gentlemen  are  received  but  the 
parents  or  guardians  of  some  of  the  children.' 

''I  was  as  mad  as  a  hatter  ;  I  felt  a  little  bit  vain  of  the  embassy 
to  London,  and  my  Paris  dress,  particularly  my  boots  and  gloves 
and  all  that,  and  I  will  admit,  there  is  no  use  talkin',  I  rather 
kinder  sorter  thought  she  would  be  proud  of  the  connection.  I 
am  a  good  natured  man  in  a  general  way,  when  I  am  pleased,  but 
It  ain't  safe  to  ryle  me,  I  tell  you.  When  I  am  spotty  on  the  back, 
I  am  dangerous.  I  bit  in  my  breath,  and  tried  to  look  cool,  for  I 
was  determined  to  take  revenge  out  of  her. 

" '  Allow  me  to  say,  Sir,'  said  she,  a  perkin'  up  her  mouth  like 
the  end  of  a  sik  purse,  'that  I  think  your  intrusion  is  as  unwel- 
come  as  it  is  unpardonable.  May  I  ask  the  favor  of  you  to  with- 
draw?  if  not,  I  must  introduce  you  to  the  watchman.' 

" '  I  came,'  sais  I,  '  Miss  Adam,  having  heard  of  your  distin 
guished  college  in  the  saloons  of  Paris  and  London,  to  make  a 
proposal  to  you  ;  but,  like  a  bull — ' 

" '  Oh,  dear !'  said  she, '  to  think  I  should  have  lived  to  hear  such 
a  horrid  word  in  this  abode  of  ledrmntr  i' 

"'But,'  I  went  on,  without  stopping,  'like  a  bull  in  a  chiny- 
shop,  I  see  I  have  got  into  the  wrong  pew;  so  nothin'  remains  but 
for  me  .o  beg  pardon,  keep  my  proposal  for  where  it  will  be 
civilly  received,  at  least,  and  back  out.' 

"  She  was  as  puzzled  as  the  maid.     But  women  ain't  throwed 
oft  their  guard  easily.     If  they  are  in  a  dark  plac  ,  they  can  feel 
their  way  out,  if  they  can't  see  it.     So,  says  she,  dubious-like  : 
" '  About  a  child,  I  suppose  V 

'"It  is  customary  in  Europe,'  sais  I,  'I  believe,  to  talk  about 
the  marriage  first,  isn't  it  ?  but  I  have  been  so  much  abroad  I  am 
not  certified  as  to  usages  here.' 

''  Oh,  warn't  she  brought  to  a  hack  !  She  had  a  great  mind  to 
order  me  out,  but  then  that  word  'proposal'  was  one  she  had  only 
seen  m  a  dictionary—she  '.ad  never  heard   '  " 

pretty  one,  and  sounded  so  nice  to  the  ear ,  .. 
'marriage'  was  used  also,  so  it  carried  the  day. 

'"This  is  not  a  place,  Mr.  Slick,  for  foundlings,  Pde  have  you  to 
Know  said  she,  with  an  air  of  disgust,  'but  children  whose  parents 
are  of  the  first  class  of  society,     if;  and  she  paused  and  looked  at 


it;  and 
and 


it 
then 


is  such  a 
that  word 


f^J. 


186 


PEMALK     COLLEGES. 


1 
I 


'■*       i> 


■it 


I  ■ 


im\i 


,1' 


III   > 


me  scrutinisln', — ♦  if  your  proposals  are  of  thai  nature,  walk  in 
here,  Sir,  if  you  please,  where  our  conversation  will  not  be  over- 
heard. Pray  be  seated.  May  I  ask,  what  is  the  nature  of  the 
proposition  with  which  you  design  to  honor  me  V  and  she  gave  me 
a  smile  that  would  pass  for  one  of  graciousness  and  sweet  temper, 
or  of  encouragement.  It  hadn't  a  decided  character,  and  was  a 
f-on-committal  one.  She  was  doin'  quite  the  Jady,  but  I  conceited 
ner  ear  was  itching  to  hear  what  I  had  to  say,  for  she  put  a  finger 
up,  with  a  beautiful  diamond  ring,  and  brushed  a  fly  off  with  it ; 
but,  after  all,  perhaps  it  was  only  to  show  her  lily-white  hand, 
which  merely  wanted  a  run  at  grass  on  the  after-feed  to  fatten  it 
up,  and  make  it  look  quite  beautiful. 

" '  Oertainly,'  sais  J,  '  you  may  ask  any  question  of  the  kind  you 
like.' 

"  It  took  her  aback,  for  she  requested  leave  to  ask,  and  I  granted 
It ;  but  she  meant  it  different. 

"  Thinks  I,  '  My  pretty  grammarian,  there  is  a  little  grain  of 
difference  between  "  May  I  ask,"  and  "  I  i  ust  ask."  Try  it  again.' 
"  She  didn't  speak  for  a  minute ;  so,  to  relieve  her,  sais  I, 
" '  When  I  look  round  here,  and  see  how  charmingly  you  are 
located,  and  what  your  occupation  is,  I  hardly  think  you  would  feel 
disposed  to  leave  it ;  so  perhaps  I  may  as  well  forbear  the  pro- 
posal, as  it  isn't  pleasant  to  be  refused.' 

" '  It  depends,'  she  said, '  upon  what  the  nature  of  those  proposals 
are,  Mr.  Slick,  and  who  makes  them,'  and  this  time  she  did  give  a 
look  of  great  complacency  and  kindness.  'Do  put  down  your 
hat.  Sir.  I  have  read  your  Clodkmaker,'  she  continued  ;  '  I  really 
feel  quite  proud  of  the  relationship ;  but  I  hope  you  will  excuse 
me  for  asking,  why  did  you  put  your  own  name  to  it,  and  call  it 
"  Sam  Slick  the  Clockmaker,"  now  that  you  are  a  distinguished 
diplomatist,  and  a  member  of  our  embassy  at  the  court  of  Victoria 
the  First  ?  It's  not  an  elegant  appellation  that,'  sais  she,  '  is  it  V 
(She  had  found  her  tongue  now).  '  Sam  Slick  the  Clockmaker,  a 
factorist  of  wooden  clocks  especially,  sounds  trady,  and  will  impede 
the  rise  of  a  colossal  reputation,  which  has  already  one  foot  in  the 
St.  Lawrence,  and  the  other  in  the  Mississippi.' 

'"And  sneezes  in  the  Chesapeake,'  sais  I, 

" '  Oh,'  said  she,  in  the  blandest  manner,  '  how  like  you,  Mr. 
Slick  !  you  don't  spare  a  joke,  even  on  yourself.  You  see  fun  in 
evervthinff.' 

"'Better,'  sais  I,  'than  seeing  harm  in  everything,  as  them 
galls  — ' 

"  '  Young  ladies,'  said  she. 

"'Well,  young  ladies,  who  saw  harm  in  me  because  I  was  a 
man.  What  harm  is  there  in  their  seeing  a  man?  You  ain't 
frig'.itened  at  one,  are  you,  Liddy  V 


FEMALE     COLLEGES. 


187 


hing,  as  them 


»  She  evaded  that  with  a  smile,  as  much  as  to  say, '  Well,  I  ain't 
much  skeered,  that's  a  fact.' 

"♦Mr.  Slick,  it  is  a  subject  not  worth  while  pursuing,'  she  re- 
plied. '  You  know  the  sensitiveness,  nervous  delicacy,  and  scru- 
pulous innocence  of  the  fair  sex  in  this  country,  and  I  may  speak 
plainly  to  you  as  a  man  of  the  world.  You  must  perceive  how 
destructive  of  all  modesty  in  their  juvenile  minds,  when  impressions 
are  so  easily  made,  it  would  be  to  familiarize  their  youthful  eyes 
to  the  larger  limbs  of  gentleman  enveloped  in  pantaloons.  To 
speak  plainly,  I  am  sure  1  needn't  tell  you  it  ain't  decent.' 

" '  Well,'  sais  I,  '  it  wouldn't  be  decent  if  they  wern't  enveloped 
in  them.' 

"  She  looked  down  to  blush,  but  it  didn't  come  natural,  so  she 
looked  up  and  smiled,  (as  much  us  to  say.  Do  get  out,  you  impu- 
dent critter.  I  know  it's  bunkum  as  well  as  you  do,  but  don't 
bother  me.  I  have  a  part  to  play.)  Then  she  rose  and  looked  at 
her  watch,  and  said  the  lecture-hour  for  botany  had  come. 

"  '  Well,'  sais  I,  a  taking  up  my  hat,  '  that's  a  charming  study, 
the  loves  of  the  plants,  for  young  ladies,  ain't  it?  they  begin  with 
natur,  you  .ee,  and  — '  (well,  she  couldn't  help  laughing).  'But  I 
see  you  are  engaged.' 

'"  Me  ?'  said  she,  '  I  assure  you.  Sir,  ;  know  people  used  to  say 
so,  afore  General  Peleg  Smith  went  to  Texas.' 

'"What,  that  scallawag  f  said  I.  'Why,  that  fellow  ought  to 
be  kicked  out  of  all  refined  society.  How  could  you  nssociute 
wiih  a  man  who  had  no  more  decency  than  to  expect  folks  to  call 
hhn  by  name  !' 

" '  How  V  said  she. 

"'Why,'  sais  I,  'what  delicate-minded  woman  could  ever  bring 
herself  to  say  Pe-%.  If  he  had  called  himself  Hujacious  Smitli^ 
or  Largerlimb  Smith,  or  something  of  that  kind,  it  would  have 
<lone,  but  Feleg  is  downright  ondeacent.  I  had  to  leave  Boston 
tt'unst  a  whole  winter,  for  making  a  mistake  of  that  kind.  I  met 
Miss  Sperm  one  day  from  Nantucket,  and,  says  I,  '  Did  you  see 
me  yesterday,  with  those  two  elegant  galls  from  Albany  '^' 

"'No,' said  she, 'I  didn't.' 

"  '  Strange,  too,'  said  I,  'for  I  was  most  sure  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  you  on  the  other  side  of  the  street,  and  I  wanted  to  introduce 
you  to  them,  but  warn't  quite  sartain  it  was  you.  My,'  sais  I, 
'didn't  you  see  a  very  unfashionable  dressed  man,'  (and  I  looked 
down  at  my  Paris  boots,  as  if  I  was  doing  modest,)  '  with  two 
angeliferous  females.      Why,  I  had  a  Z<?^  on  each  arm.' 

"'She  lairly  screamed  out  at  that  expression,  rushed  into  a 
milliner's  shop,  and  cried  like  a  gardener's  watering-pot.-  The 
names^  she  called  me  ain't  no  matter.  They  were  the  two  Miss 
-jQggQ  s  of  Albany,  and  cut  a  tali  swarth,  i  tell  you,  for  ihey  say 


-'m:  •' .! ' J.  g  immiffmmmmtmmp'- 


188 


P  E  >r  A  L  E     COLLEGES. 


?,i  I 


IIP 


they  are  descended  from  a  governor  of  Nova  Scotia,  when  good 
men,  according  to  their  toll,  could  be  found  for  governors,  and  that 
their  relations  in  England  are  some  pumpkins,  too.  I  was  as  inno- 
cent  as  a  child,  Letty.' 

"  '  Well,'  said  she,  'you  are  the  most  difficult  man  to  understand 
I  ever  see — there  is  no  telling  whether  you  are  in  fun  or  in  earnest. 
But  as  I  was  a-saying,  there  was  some  such  talk  afore  General 
Smith  went  to  Texas ;  but  that  story  was  raised  by  the  Pawtaxet 
College  folks,  to  injure  this  institution.  They  did  all  they  could  to 
tear  my  renutation  to  chitlins.  Me  engaged,  I  should  like  to  see 
the  man  that — '. 

.  "  '  Well,  you  seemed  plaguey  scared  at  one  just  now,'  sais  I. 
•  I  am  sure  it  was  a  strange  way  to  show  you  would  like  to  see  a 
man.* 

" '  I  didn't  say  that,'  she  replied,  '  but  you  take  one  up  so  quick.' 
"  '  It's  a  way  I  have,'  said  1,  '  and  always  had,  since  you  and  I 
was  to  singing-school  together,  and  larnt  sharps,  flats,  and  naturals. 
It  was  a  crotchet  of  mine,'  and  I  just  whipped  my  arm  round  her 
waist,  took  hor  up  and  kisspd  her,  afore  she  knowed  where  she 
was.  Oh  Lordy  !  Out  came  her  comb,  and  down  fell  her  hair  to 
her  waist,  like  a  mill-dam  bro^e  loose;  and  two  false  curls  and  a 
braid  fell  on  the  floor,  and  her  frill  took  to  dancin'  round,  and  got 
wrong  side  afore,  and  one  of  her  shoes  slipt  off,  and  she  really 
looked  as  if  she  had  been  in  an  indgean-scrimmage,  and  wji^  ready 
for  seal  pin. 

'"Then  you  aint  engaged,  Li-^^dy,'  sais  I;  'how  glad  I  am  to 
hear  that ;  it  makes  my  heart  jump ;  and  cherries  is  ripe  now, 
and  I  will  help  you  into  the  tree,  a?- k  used  to  did  when  you  and  I 
was  boy  and  gall  together.  It  does  «Heem  so  nateral,  Liddy,  to  have 
a  game  of  romps  with  you  again ;  it  makes  me  feel  as  young  as  a 
two-year-old.  How  beautiful  you  do  Jook,  too !  My,  what'^a  pity 
you  is  shut  up  here,  with  these  young  giMls  all  day,  talking  by  the 
yard,  about  the  corrallas,  calyxes,  and  staminas  of  flowers,  while 
you 

"  *  Are  doomed  to  blush  m.-sjen, 
And  waste  your  sweetness  on  the  desert  air.' 

"^'  Oh,'  said  she,  '  Sam,  I  must  cut  and  tun,  and  "  blush  unseen," 
that's  a  fact,  or  I'm  ruinated,'  and  she  up  curls,  comb,  braid,  and 
shoe,  and  off  like  a  shot  into  a  bed-room  that  adjoin^vl  the  parlor, 
and  bolted  the  door,  and  double-locked  it,  as  if  she  was  afraid  an 
attachment  was  to  be  levied  on  her  and  her  chattels,  by  tUe  sheriff, 
and  1  was  a  bum-bailiff. 

"  Thinks  I,  old  gall,  I'll  pay  you  off  for  treating  me  the.  v^y  you 
did  just  now,  as  sure  as  the  world.  'May  I  ask,  Mr.  Slick,  what 
is  the  object  of  this  visit?'     A  pretty  wav  to  receive  a  covisin  tliat 


FEMALE     COLLEGES. 


189 


you  haven  t  seen  so  long,  amt  it  ?  and  though  I  say  It,  that  shouldn't 
say  .t,  that  cousni,  too,  Sam  Slick,  the  attache  to^ur  embassy  to 
the  Court  of  Victom,  Buckingham  Palace.     You  couldn't  a  treated 


e  a  o^jusin  tliat 


naterel,  I  know,  see  if  I  don't. 

"Presently  she  returned  all  set  to  rights,  and  a  little  righter, 
00  for  she  had  put  a  touch  of  rouge  on  to  make  the  blush  stick 
better  and  her  hair  was  slicked  up  snugger  than  before,  and  looked 
as  fit  had  growed  like  any  thing.  She  had  also  slipped  a  handsomr 
habit-shirt  on,  and  she  looked,  take  her  altogether,  as  if,  thou-h  she 
^var.l  t  engaged  she  ought  to  have  been  afore  the  last  five  hot  sum- 
mers came  and  the  general  thaw  had  commenced  in  the  spring 
and  she  had  got  thin,  and  out  of  condition.  She  put  her  hand  on 
her  heart,  and  said,  '  I  am  so  skared,  Sam,  I  feel  all  over  of  a  twit- 
teration.     I  he  way  you  act  is  horrid.' 

'■'So  do  I,'  sais  I,  '  Liddy,  it's  so  long  since  you  and  I  used  to—' 
You  a.nt  altered  a  bit,  Sam,'  said  she,  for  the  starch  was  com- 
ing out,  from  what  you  was,  only  you  are  more  forrider.  Our 
young  men,  when  they  go  abroad,  come  back  and  talk  so  free  and 
easy,  and  take  such  liberties,  and  say  it's  the  fashion  in  Paris  it's 
quite  scandalous.  Now,  if  you  dare  to  do  the  like  again,  111  never 
speak  to  you  the  longest  day  I  ever  live,  I'll  go  right  off  and  leave, 
see  II  1  f"m  t. 

'"  Oij,  I  see,  I  have  offended  you,'  sais  I ;  'you  are  not  in  a  hu- 

niOT  to  consent  now,  so  I  will  call  again  some  other  time.' 

"  '  This  lecture  on  botany  must  now  be  postponed,'  she  said  « for 
the  hour  is  out  some  time  ago.  If  you  will  be  seated,  I  will  set 
the  young  students  at  embroidery,  instead,  and  return  for  a  short 
time  for  it  does  seem  so  naterel  to  see  you,  Sam,  you  saucy  boy  ' 
and  she  pinched  my  ear,  '  it  reminds  one,  don't  it,  of  by-.Tones^' 
and  she  hung  her  head  a-one  side,  and  looked  sentimental.   ° 

"  '  Of  by-gone  larks,'  said  I. 

'"Hush,  Saim,'  she  said,  '  don't  talk  so  loud,  that's  a  dear  soul 
Uh,  it  anybody  had  come  in  just  then,  and  caught  us.' 

(" '  '  ^.hinks  I  to  myself,  '  I  thought  you  had  no  objection  to 
It,  and  only  struggled  enough  for  modesty-like ;  and  I  did  think  you 
would  have  said,  caught  ?/om.')  "^ 

I  would  have  been  ruinated  for  ever  and  ever,  and  amen,  and 
the  college  broke  up,  and  my  position  in  the  literary,  scientific,  and 
nitellectual  world  scorched,  withered,  and  blasted  for  ever.  Aint 
my  cheek  all  burning,  Sam  ?  it  feels  as  if  it  was  all  a-fire  ;'  and  she 
pit  it  near  enough  for  me  to  see,  and  feel  tempted  beyctnd  my 
.>..n„fi.  .  Don't  it  look  horrid  inflamed,  dear  V  And  she  danced 
'oom,  as  if  she  was  skiDpinsr  a  rone. 


Strength. 


190 


FEMALE    OOLLEOEi. 


"  Well,  well,"  saia  I,  when  she  took  herself  off.  "  What  a  world 
this  is.  This  is  evnnjj;elical  learning;  girls  are  taught  in  one  room 
to  faint  or  scream  if  they  see  a  man,  as  if  he  was  an  incarnation 
of  sin ;  and  yet  tbey  are  all  educated  and  trained  to  think  the  solo 
object  of  life  is  to  win,  not  convert,  but  win  one  of  these  sinners. 
In  the  nexo  room,  propriety,  dignity,  and  decorum,  romp  with  a 
man  in  a  way  to  make  even  his  sallow  face  blush.  Teach  a  child 
there  is  harm  in  everything,  however  innocent,  and  so  soon  as  it 
discovers  the  cheat,  it  won't  see  no  sin  in  anything.  That's  the 
reason  deacons'  sons  seldom  turn  out  well,  and  preachers'  daughters 
arc  married  through  ;i  window.  Innocence  is  the  sweetest  thing  in 
the  world,  and  there  is  more  of  it  than  folks  generally  imagine.  If 
you  want  some  to  transplant,  don't  seek  it  in  the  inclosures  of  cant, 
for  it  has  only  counterfeit  ones,  but  go  to  the  gardens  of  truth  and 
of  sense.  Coerced  innocence  is  like  an  imprisoned  lark,  open  the 
door  and  it's  otf  for  ever.  The  bird  that  roams  through  the  sky 
and  the  grove  unrestrained,  knows  how  to  dodge  the  hawk  and  pro- 
tect itself,  but  the  caged  one,  the  momcn*-  it  leaves  its  bars  and 
bolts  behind,  is  pounced  upon  by  the  fowler  or  the  vulture. 

"  Puritans,  whether  in  or  out  of  the  church  (for  there  is  a  whole 
squad  of  'cm  in  it,  like  rats  in  a  house  who  eat  up  its  bread  and 
undermine  its  wall,)  make  more  sinners  than  they  save,  by  a  long 
chalk.  They  ain't  content  with  real  sin,  the  pattern  ain't  suflicient 
for  a  cloak,  so  they  sew  on  several  breadths  of  artificial  oHenoes, 
and  that  makes  one  big  enough  to  wrap  round  them,  and  cover  their 
own  deformity.  It  enlarges  the  margin,  and  the  book,  and  gives 
more  texts. 

"Their  eyes  are  like  the  great  magnifier  at  the  Polytechnic,  that 
shows  you  many-headed,  many-armed,  many-footed  and  many-tailed 
awful  monsters  in  a  drop  of  wafer,  which  were  never  intended  for 
us  to  see,  or  Providence  would  have  made  our  eyes  like  Lord 
Rosse's  telescope,  (which  discloses  the  secrets  of  the  moon,)  and 
given  us  springs  that  had  none  of  these  canables  in  'em.  Water  is 
our  drink,  and  it  was  made  for  us  to  take  when  we  were  dry,  and  be 
thankful.  After  I  first  saw  one  of  these  drops,  like  an  old  cheese 
chock  full  of  livin'  things,  I  couldn't  drink  nothing  but  pure  gin  or 
brandy  for  a  week.  1  was  scared  to  death.  1  consaited  when  I 
went  to  bed  I  could  audibly  feel  these  critters  fightin'  like  Turks  and 
mining  my  inerds,  and  Igotnarvous  lest  my  stomach,  like  a  citadel, 
might  be  blowed  up  and  the  works  destroyed.     It  was  frightful. 

'•  At  last  I  sot  up  and  said,  Sam,  where  is  all  your  common  sense 
gone.     You  used  to  have  a  considerable  sized  phial  of  it,  I  hope  you 
ain't  lost  the  cork  and  let  it  all  run  out.     So  I  put  myself  in  the 
witness  stand,  and  asked  myself  a  few  questions. 
"  '  Water  was  made  to  drink,  warn't  it  V 
"' That's  a  fact.' 


FEMALB    COLLEGES. 


191 


"'You  can  t  sco  them  critters  in  it  with  your  naked  eyeV 

" '  f  can't  see  them  at  all,  neither  naked  or  dressed.' 

♦"Then  it  warn't  intended  yor  should]' 

" '  Seems  as  if  it  wasn't,'  sais  I. 

'"Then  drink,  and  don't  bo  skeered.' 

"'I'll  be  darned  if  I  don't,  for  who  knows  them  wee-monstrosi 
ties  don  t  help  digestion,  or  feed  on  human  nyson.     They  warn't 
put  into  Adam's  ale  for  nothin',  that's  a  fact.' 

"  It  seems  as  if  they  warn't,'  sais  I.     '  So  now  go  to  sleep.' 

'•vycll,  puritans'  eyes  arc  like  them  majznifiers ;   they  see  the 
devil  in  everything  but  themselves,  where  he  is  pinguy  apt  to  be 
found  by  them  that  want  him ;  for  he  feels  at  home  in  their  corn- 
pany.     One  time  they  vow  he  is  a  dancin'  master,  and  moves  his 
toot  so  quick  folks  can't  see  they  are  cloven,  another  time  a  music 
muster,  and  toadies  children  to  open  their  mouths  and  not  their 
nostrils  in  singing.     Now  he  is  a  tailor  or  milliner,  and   makes 
tashionable  garments,  and  then  a  manager  of  a  theatre,  which  is  the 
most  awful  place  in  the  world  ;  it  is  a  reflex  of  life,  and  the  reflec- 
tion IS  always  worse  than  the  original,  as  a  man's  shadow  is  more 
daiigi-roiis  than  h(i  is.     i3ut  worst  of  all,  they  solemnly  aflirm,  for 
tlicy  don  t  swear,  he  comes  sometim(^s  in  lawn  sleeves,  and  looks 
likes  a  bishop,  which  is  popery,  or  in  the  garb  of  high  churchmon. 
who  are  all  Jesuits.     Js  it  any  wonder  these  cantin'  fellows  pervert 
the  understanding,  sap  the  principles,  corrupt  the  heart,  and  destroy 
the  happiness  of  so  many  ?     Poor  dear  old  Minister  used   to  say 
bam,  you  must  instruct  your  conscience,  for  an  ignorant  or  super- 
stitious conscience  is  a  snare  to  the  unwary.     If  you  think  a  thing 
IS  wrong  that  is  not,  and  do  it,  then  you  sin,  because  you  are  doin^^ 
Mhat  you  believe  in  your  heart  to  be  wicked,     it  is" the  intentioS 
that  constitutes  the  crime.'     Those  sour  crouts,  therefore,  by  crea- 
ting  artificial  and  imitation  sin  in  such  abundance,  make  real  sin  of 
no  sort  of  consequence,  and  the  world  is  so  chock  full  of  it,  a  fellow 
gets  careless  at  last  and  wont  get  out  of  its  way,  it's  so  much  trouble 
to  pick  his  steps. 

I  r  i^^rl''  ^  ^^i^^"5'"  ^  ^""^^^^  ^^"'^y  ^^  <^«eP  aT^out  artificial  sins, 
1  tlidn  t  hear  Liddy  come  in,  she  shut  the  door  so  softly  and  trod 
on  tiptoes  so  light  on  the  carpet.  The  first  thing  I  knew  was  I  felt 
her  hands  on  my  head  as  she  stood  behind  me,  a  dividen  of  mv 
nair  with  her  fingers.  *^ 

"'Why,  Sam,'  said  she,  'as  I'm  a  livin'  sinner  if  you  aint  got 
some  white  hairs  in  your  head,  and  there  is  a  little  bald  patch  here 
right  on  the  crown.  How  strange  it  is  !  It  only  seems  like  yesteff- 
day  you  was  a  curly-headed  boy.' 

i\.''!}'u^''  ^^^^  ^'  ^"^  ^  ''^'^^®  ^  sigh  so  loud  it  made  the  window  iar- 
but  1  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  trouble  since  then.     I  lost  twp 
Wives  in  Europe.' 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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Sciences 
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192 


FEMALE     COLLEGES. 


"'Now  do^»ll,'  said  she.  'Why  you  don't !— oh,  jiramiDv 
crimmy  !  two  wives !  How  was  it,  poor  Sara  V  and  she  kissed 
the  bald  spot  on  my  pate,  and  took  a  rockin'  chair  and  sat  opposite 
to  me,  and  began  rockin'  backwards  and  forwards  like  a  fellow 
sawing  wood.     '  How  was  it,  Sam,  dear  V 

"  '  Why,'  sais  I,  « first  and  foremost,  Liddy,  I  married  a  fashion- 
able  lady  to  London.  Well,  bein'  out  night  arter  night  at  balls 
and  operas,  and  what  not,  she  got  kinder  used  up  and  beat  out,  and 
unbeknownst  to  me  used  to  take  opium.  Well,  one  night  she  took 
too  much,  and  in  the  morning  she  was  as  dead  as  a  herring.' 

"  '  Did  she  make  a  pretty  corpse  V  said  Lid,  lookin'  very  sancti- 
monious.  'Did  she  lay  out  handsum?  They  say  prussic  acid 
makes  lovely  corpses ;  it  keeps  the  eyes  from  falling  in.  Next  to 
dyin'  happy,  the  greatest  thing  is  to  die  pretty.  Ugly  corpses 
frighten  sinners,  but  elegant  ones  ^'^'m  them.' 

'"The  mo3t  lovely  subject  you  ever  beheld.'  said  I     'She 
looked  as  if  she  was  only  asleep  ;  she  didn't  stiffen  at  all,  but  was 
as  limber  as  ever  you  see.     Her  hair  fell  over  her  neck  and  shoulders 
in  beautiful  curls  just  like  yourn ;  and  she  had  on  her  fingers  the 
splendid  diamiind  rings  I  gave  her ;  she  was  too  fatigued  to  take 
'em  off  when  she  retired  the  night  afore.     I  felt  proud  of  her  even 
in  death,  I  do  assure  you.     She  was  handsome  enough  to  eat.    I 
went  to  ambassador's  to  consult  him  about  the  funeral,  whether  it 
should  be  a  state  affair,  with  all  the  whole  diplomatic  corps  of  the 
court  to  attend  it,  or  a  private  one.     But  he  advised  a  private  one ; 
he  said  it  best  comported  with  our  dignified  simplicity  as  republi 
cans,  and,  although  cost  was  no  object,  still  it  was  satisfactory  tc 
know  it  was  far  less  expense.     When  I  came  back  she  was  gone.' 
"  '  Gone !'  said  Liddy,  '  gone  where  V 
" '  Gone  to  the  devil,  dear,  I  suppose.' 

"'Oh  my!'  said  she.  '  Well,  I  never,  in  all  ray  born  days! 
Oh,  Sam,  is  that  the  way  to  talk  of  the  dead !' 

" '  In  the  dusk  of  the  evening,'  sais  I,  '  a  carriage,  they  said, 
drove  to  the  door,  and  a  coffin  was  carried  up-stairs ;  but  the 
undertaker  said  it  wouldn't  fit,  and  it  was  taken  back  again  for  a 
larger  one.  Just  afore  I  went  to  bed,  I  went  to  the  room  to  have 
another  look  at  her,  and  she  was  gone,  and  there  was  a  letter  on 
the  table  for  me  ;  it  contained  a  few  words  only.  '  Dear  Sam,  my 
first  husband  is  come  to  life,  and  so  have  l.  Good-bye,  love." 
"  '  Well,  what  did  you  do  ?' 

"  '  Gave  it  out,'  said  I,  'she  die  1  of  the  cholera,  and  had  to  be 
buried  quick  and  private,  and  no  one  never  knew  to  the  con- 
trary.' 

"  '  Didn't  it  'most  break  your  heart,  Sammy  V 
" '  No,'  sais  I.     '  In  her  hurry,  she  took  my  dressing-case  instead 
of  her  own,  in  which  was  all  her  6wn  jewels,  besides  those  I  gave 


FEMALE     COLLEGES. 


198 


her,  and  all  our  ready-tconey.  So  I  tried  to  resign  mvself  to  my 
loss,  for  It  might  have  been  worse,  you  know,'  and  I  looked  as  cood 
as  pie.  ® 

" '  Well,  if  that  don't  beat  all,  I  declare !'  said  she. 

♦^ '  Liddy,'  sais  I,  with  a  mock  solemcoly  air,  « every  bane  has  its 
antidote,  and  every  irisfortune  its  peculiar  consolation.' 

"  '  Oh,  Sam  that  showed  the  want  of  a  high  moral  ''ntellectual 
education,  didn  t  it  V  said  she.  '  And  yet  you  had  the  courage  to 
marry  again  V 

"  '  Well,  I  married,'  sais  I,  'next year  m  France  a  lady  who  had 
refused  one  of  Louis  Philip's  sons.  Oh,  what  a  splendid  gall  she 
was,  Liddy !  she  was  the  star  of  Paris.  Poor  thing  !  I  lost  her  in 
six  weeks.' 

" '  Six  weeks !     Oh,  Solomon !'  said  she,  '  in  six  weeks !" 
"  '  Yes,'  sais  I,  '  in  six  short  weeks.' 

"  *  How  was  it,  Sam  ?  do  tell  me  all  about  it ;  it's  quite  roman- 
tic.    I  vow,  it's  like  the  Arabian  Nights  Entertamm^ent.     You  are 
60  unlucky,  I  swow  I  should  be  skeered — ' 
"'At  what?' sais  I. 
" '  Why,  at-' 

"She  was  caught  there;  she  was  agoin' to  sav,  'At  marrvin' 
you,'  but  as  she  was  a-leadin'  of  me  on,  that  wouldn't  do.  Doctor 
you  may  catch  a  gall  sometimes,  but  if  she  has  a  mind  to,  she  can 
escape  if  she  chooses,  for  ihey  are  as  slippery  as  eels.  So  she  pre- 
tended to  hesitate  on,  till  I  asked  her  again. 

"  '  Why,'  sais  she,  a  looking  down,  '  at  sleeping  alone  to-night, 
after  hearing  of  these  dreadful  catastrophes.' 
" '  Oh,'  sais  I,  '  is  that  all  V 
" '  But  how  did  you  lose  her  V  said  she. 

"  'Why  she  raced  off,'  said  I, '  with  the  Turkish  ambassador,  and 
if  I  had  got  a  hold  of  him,  I'de  a  Jammed  Mm  wuss  than  the  devil 
beatin'  tan-bark,  I  know.     I'de  a  had  his  melt,  if  there  was  a 
bowie-knife  out  of  Kentucky.' 
" '  Did  you  go  after  her  V 
"  Yes ;  but  she  cotched  it  afore  I  cotched  her.' 
"  '  How  was  that,  Sam  V 

' "  Why,  she  wanted  to  sarve  him  the  same  way,  with  an  officer 
of  the  Russian  Guards,  and  Mahomet  caught  her, 'sewed  her  up  in 
a  sack,  and  throwed  her  neck  and  crop  into  the  Bosphorus,  to  fat- 
ten  eels  for  the  Greek  ladies  to  keep  Lent  with.' 
" '  Why,  how  could  you  be  so  unfortunate  V  said  she. 
'"That's  a  question  I  have  often  axed  myself,  Liddy,' sais  I; 
*  but  I  have  come  to  this  conclusion :  London  and  Paris  am't  no 
place  for  galls  to  be  trained  in.' 

'"  So  I  have  always  said,  and  always  will  maintain  to  my  dying 
day,'  she  said,  rising  with  great  animation  and  pride.     *  What  do 


g:  fw 


wK-^'---^^^^ 


194 


VEUALE    COLLEGES 


i 

A' 

■ 

nj 

1  ^«^^  I 

ii 

: '  *                       ■        ,  i  1  i 

they  teach  there  but  music,  dancing,  and  drawing?  The  deuce  a 
thing  else  ;;but  hero  is  Spanish,  French,  Gorman,  Italian,  botany 
geology,  mmeralogy,  icthiology,  concboiogy,  theolcry—'  ^ 

II '  Do  you  teach  angeolology  and  doxyo'logy  V  sals  I. 

Yes,  angeolology  and  doxyologj-,'  she  said,  not  knowing  what 
she  was  a-talkmg  about.  ° 

"  '  And  occult  sciences  V  sais  I. 

"'Yes,  all  the  sciences.  London  and  Paris,  \l  Ask  a  ladr 
from  either  place  if  she  knows  the  electric  battery  from  the  mag. 

"  '  Or  a  needle  from  a  pole,'  sais  I. 

"'Yes,'  sais  she,  without  listening,  'or  any  such  question,  and 
see  if  she  can  a'-iswer  it.'  ^  u  » 

*'  She  resumed  her  seat. 

'' '  Forgive  my  enthusiasm,'  she  said,  '  Sam,  you  know  I  always 
had  a  great  deal  of  that.'  ^ 

" '  1  know,'  said  I,  '  you  had  the  smallest  foot  and  ankle  of  any- 
body  m  our  country.  My  !  what  fine-spun  glass  heels  you  had  f 
Where  in  the  world  have  you  stowed  them  tof  pretendin'  to  look 
down  for  them.' 

!i  'r^^^i^  ^^^"^  *°  '"^^  ^^"  ^^^^''  ^^®  ^^'^  '  i^  you  are  sassy.' 
Ihinks  I  to  myself:  what  next,  as  the  woman  said  to  the  man 
who  lassed  her  m  the  tunnel.     You  are  coming  out,  Liddy 

'  'Kick,  said  I,  'oh,  you  wouldn't  try  that,  I  am  sure, let  me  do 
what  1  would.' 

"' Why  not,' said  she. 

"  'Why,'  sais  I,  'if  you  did  you  would  have  to  kick  so  high,  yon 
would  expose  one  of  the  larger  limbs.' 

" '  Mr.  Slick,'  said  she,  '  I  trust  you  will  not  so  far  forget  what  is 
due  ^to^  a  lady,  as  to  talk  of  showing  her  larger  limbs,  it's  not 

"'Well  I  know  it  ain't  decent,'  said  I,  'but  you  said  you  would 
do  It,  and  I  just  remonstrated  a  little,  that's  all.' 

"  '  You  was  saying  about  London  and  Paris,'  said  she,  '  being  no 
place  for  educating  young  ladies  in.' 

'' '  Yes,'  sais  J,  '  that  painful  story  of  my  two  poor  dear  wives, 
(which  IS  all  in  my  eye,'  as  plain  as  it  was  then)  illustrates  my 
theory  of  education  m  those  two  capitals.  In  London,  females  who 
are  a  great  deal  in  society  in  the  season,  like  a  man  who  drinks, 
can  t  stop,  they  are  at  it  all  the  time,  and  like  him,  sometimes  for- 
get the  way  home  again.  In  Paris,  galls  are  kept  so  much  at 
home  before  marriage,  when  they  once  get  out,  they  don't  want  to 
enter  the  cage  again.  They  are  the  two  extremes.  If  ever  I 
marry,  I  Jl  tell  you  how  1  will  lay  down  the  law.  Pleasure  shall 
be  the  recreation  and  not  the  business  of  life  with  h'^r.  Home  the 
rule— parties  the  exception.    Duty  first,  amusement  second.    Her 


h  question,  and 


said  you  would 


FEMALE    OOLLEOE^S.  Jjljj 

head-quarters  shall  always  be  in  her  own  house,  but  the  outposts 
will  never  be  neglected.'  vutpuaw 

"'Nothia'iike  an  American  woman  for  an  American  man,  is 

here  ?  said  she,  and  she  drew  nearer,  lookin'  up  in  my  face  to  read 

the  answer,  and  didn't  rock  so  hard.  r         j-  tu  reau 

'"  It  depends  upon  how  they  are  brought  up,' said  T,  lookinff 

Z%y  l^T  V^^'  '''%^'  *  r'^^"'  Joking,%hat\n  amaJin'  small 
foot  that  IS  of  yours.     It  always  was,  and  wunst  when^it  slipt 

hrough  a  branch  of  the  cherry-t.ee,  do  you  recollect  my  sayin.r  well 
1  vow  that  calf  was  suckled  by  two  cows  ?  now  don't  you  llddy' 
.V  .t'f'\'^l'^''  '  J  "^o^'t.  though  children  may  say  many 
things  that  when  they  grow  up,  they  are  ashamed  to  repeat;  but  I 
recollect  now  wunst  wh.r.  you  and  I  went  through  the  Jong  gra.s 
to  the  cherry-tree,  your  mother  said,  '  Liddy,  beware  you  Ire  not 
bit  by  a  garter  snake,'  and  I  never  knew  her  meanin'  till  now '  and 
'^V:Z^^r^  T'f';^\Slick,  I  must  bid  you  good  morniig  ' 
Liddy,  sais  I,  'don't  be  so  pesky  starch,  I'll  be  dod  fetched  if 

meant  any  harm,  but  you  beat  me  all  holler.     I  only  spoke  of 
the  calf,  and  you  went  a  streak  higher  and  talked  of  the  garter  ' 

feam,  said  she, '  you  was  always  the  most  impedent,  forredest, 
and  pertest  bey  that  ever  was,  and  .ravellin'  hain't  improved  yon 
one  mite  or  morsel.'  ^  ^ 

"'I  am  sorry  I  have  offended  you,  Liddy,'  sais  I,  'but  really 
now  how  do  you  manage  to  teach  all  them  things  with  hard  names 
for  we  never  even  heard  of  them  at  Slickville.  Have  you  any 
masters  V  .  J  J 

"•Masters! 'said  she,  'the  first  one  that  entered  this  college 
would  rum  it  forever.  What,  a  man  in  this  college  !  where  the 
juvenile  pupils  belong  to  the  first  families  l—l  guess  not.  I  hire  a 
young  lady  to  teach  rudiments.' 

"'So  I  should  think,'  sais  I,  'from  the  specimen  I  saw  at  your 
door ;  she  was  rude  enough  in  all  conscience.' 

"'Pooh!'  said  she;  'well,  I  have  a  Swiss  la(5y  that  teaches 
French,  German,  Spanish,  and  Italian,  and  an  English  one  that 
mstiucts  m  music  and  drawing,  and  I  teach  history,  ffeography 
botany,  and  the  sciences,  and  so  on.'  ^  *^' 

" '  How  on  earth  did  you  learn  them  all  V  said  I,  '  for  it  puzzles 
me.  * 

"  *  Between  you  and  me,  Sam,'  said  she,  '  for  you  know  my 
broughtens  up,  and  it's  no  use  to  pretend—primary  books  does  it 
all ;  there  is  question  and  answer.  I  read  the  question,  and  they 
learn  the  answer.  It's  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  to  teach  now- 
a-days. 

II I  But  suppose  you  get  beyond  the  rudiments  ?' 
" '  Oh,  they  never  remain  long  enough  to  do  that.     They  are 
brought  out  before  then.     They  go  to  Saratoga  first  in  summer 


iiiiii!|il 


:|IHii 


1i ;  i 


FEMALE    OOLLEOES. 

Slid  then  to  Washington  in  winter,  and  are  married  right  off  afteif 
that.  The  domestic,  seolusive,  and  exclusive  system,  13  found  most 
conducive  to  a  high  state  of  refinement  and  delicacy.  I  am  doin'» 
y/ie]\,  Sam,'  said  she,  drawing  nearer,  and  looking  confidential  in 
r/iy  face.  •  1  own  all  this  college,  and  all  the  lands  about,  and  have 
laid  up  forty  thousand  dollars  besides ;'  and  she  nodded  her  head 
e.t  me,  and  looked  earnest,  as  much  as  to  say,  'that  is  a  fact,  ain't 
it  grand?' 

" '  The  devil  you  have !'  said  I,  as  if  I  had  taken  the  bait.  'I 
had  a  proposal  to  make.' 

" '  Oh,'  said  she,  and  she  colored  up  all  over,  and  got  up  and 
said,  'Sam,  won't  you  have  a  glass  of  wine,  dear]'  She  intended 
it' to  give  me.  courage  to  speak  out,  and  she  went  to  a  closet  ai;d 
brought  out  a  tray  with  a  decanter  and  two  or  three  glasses  on  it, 
and  some  frosted  plumb-cake.  '  Try  that  cake,  dear,'  she  said,  '  I 
made  it  myself,  and  your  dear  old  mother  taught  \ne  how  to  do 
it ;'  and  then  she  laid  bar^k  her  head,  and  larfed  like  anything. 
*  Sam,'  said  she, '  what  a  memory  you  have ;  I  had  forgot  all  about 
the  cherry-tree ;  I  don't  recollect  a  word  of  it.' 

"  '  And  the  calf,'  said  I. 

"  '  Get  along,'  said  she, — '  do  get  out !'  and  she  took  up  some 
crumbs  of  the  cake,  and  made  'em  into  a  ball  as  big  as  a  cherry, 
and  fired  it  at  me,  and  struck  me  in  the  eye  with  it,  and  nearly 
put  it  out.  She  jumped  up  in  a  minit :  '  Did  she  hurt  her  own 
poor  cossy's  eyel'  she  said,  'and  put  it  een  amost  out,'  and  she 
kissed  it.     '  It  didn't  hurt  his  little  peeper  much,  did  it  V 

"  Hullo,  sais  I  to  myself,  she's  coming  it  too  peecv/erM  strong 
altogether.  The  sooner  1  dig  out  the  better  for  my  wholesomes. 
However,  let  her  went — she  is  wrathy.     'I  came  to  propose  to 


you ' 

" '  Dear 


me,'  said  she. 


'  I  feel  dreadful ;  I  warn't  prepared  for 
d.     What  is  it,  Sam  ?    I  am  all  over  of 


this  ;  it's  very  unexpi 
a  tw iteration.'  ' 

"  '  I  know  you  will  refuse  me,'  sais  I,  '  when  I  look  round  and 
see  how  comfortable  and  how  happy  you  are,  even  if  you  ain't 
engaged.' 

"  '  Sam,  I  told  you  I  weren't  engaged,'  she  said ;  'that  story  oi 
General  Smith  is  all  a  fabrication ;  therefore  don't  mention  that 
again.' 

"  '  I  feel,'  said  I,  '  it's  no  use.  I  know  what  you  will  say— you 
can't  quit.' 

"  '  You  have  a  strange  way,'  said  she,  rather  tart ;  '  for  you  ask 
questions,  and  then  answer  them  yourself.     What  do  you  meauf 

"  '  Well,'  sais  I,  '  I'll  tell  you,  Liddy.' 

"  '  Do,  dear,'  said  she,  and  she  put  her  hand  over  her  eyes,  as  if 
to  stop  her  from  hearing  distinctly.     '  I  came  to  propose  to  you—' 


FEMALE    COLLEGES. 


m 


in  the  bait.     'I 


«'0h,  Sam,'  said  she,  'to  think  of  that!' 

«  'To  take  a  seat  in  my  buggy,'  sais  I,  'and  come  and  spend  « 
month  with  sister  Sally  and  me  at  the  old  location.' 

"  Poor  thing,  I  pitied  her ;  she  had  one  knee  over  the  other 
and,  as  I  said,  one  hand  over  her  eyes,  and  there  she  sot,  and  the 
way  the  upper  foot  went  bobbin'  up  and  down  was  like  the  palsy 
only  a  little  quicker.  She  never  said  another  word,  nor  sighed 
nor  groaned,  nor  anything,  only  her  head  hung  lower.  Well  I 
felt  streaked.  Doctor,  I  tell  you.  I  ^^x.  like  a  man  who  had  stabbed 
another,  and  knew  he  ought  to  be  hanged  for  it :  and  I  looked  at 
her  as  s^.ch  a  critter  would,  if  he  had  to  look  on  and  see  his  enemy 
bleed  to  death.  I  knew  I  had  done  wrong— I  had  acted  spider-like 
to  her— got  her  into  the  web— tied  her  hand  and  foot,  and  tan- 
talized  her.  I  am  given  to  brag,  I  know,  Doctor,  when  1  am  in 
the  saddle,  and  up  in  the  stirups,  and  leavin'  all  others  behind : 
but  when  a  beast  is  choked,  and  down  in  the  dirt,  no  man  ever 
heard  me  brag  I  had  rode  the  critter  to  death. 

"  No,  I  did  wrong ;  she  was  ^  woman,  and  I  was  a  man,  and  if 
she  did  act  a  part,  why  I  ought  to  have  known  the  game  she  had 
to  play  and  made  allowances  for  it.     I  dropt  the  trump-card  under 
the  table  that  time,  and,  though  I  got  the  odd  trick,  she  had  the 
honors.     It  warn't  manly  in  me,  that's  a  fact ;  but,  confound  her, 
why  the  plague  did  she  call  me  'Mr.'  and  act  formal,  and  give  me 
the  bag  to  hold,  when  she  knew  me  of  old,  and  minded  the  cherry 
tree,  and  all  that  ?    Still,  she  was  a  woman,  and  a  defenceless  one, 
too  and  I  didn  t  do  the  pretty.     But  if  she  was  a  woman,  Doctor 
she  had  more  clear  grit  than  most  men  have.     After  a  while,  she 
took  her  hand  off  her  eyes  and  rubbed  them,  and  she  opened  hei 
mouth  and  yawned  so  you  could  see  down  to  her  garters  amost. 

1    1   7?^\t^^ •'  ^^^^  ^^®'  "^^^^"^  ^®  ®"^'^®  >  ^"*'  o^  ine  !  how  she 
looked !     Her  eyes  had  no  more  expression  than  a  China  aster, 
and  her  face  was  so  deadly  pale  it  made  the  rouge  she  had  put  on 
look  like  the  hectic  of  a  dying  consumption.     Ifer  ugly  was  out 
m  full  bloom,  I  tell  you.     '  Dear  cousin  Sam,'  said  she,  'I  am  so 
latigiied  with  my  labors  as  presidentess  of  this  institution,  that  I 
can  hardly  keep  my  peepers  open.     I  think,  if  I  recollect— for  I 
am  ashamed  to  say  1  was  a  noddin'— that  you  proposed'  (that  w®E 
ht  her  eyes  up)  'that  I  should  go  with  you  to  visit  dear  Sally. 
Uh,  bam  !  said  she,  (how  she  bit  in  her  temper  that  hitch,  didn't 
she^)    you  see,  and  you  saw  it  at  first,  1  can't  leave  on  so  short  a 
notice ;  but  if  my  sweet  Sally  would  come  and  visit  me,  how  de- 
lighted I  should  be  !     Sam,  I  must  join  my  class  now.     How 
happy  It  has  made  me  to  see  you  again  after  so  many  years  J 
IViss  me,  dear  ;  good-bye -God  bless  you  !'  and  she  yawned  again 
till  she  nearly  dislocated  her  jaw.     '  Go  on  and  write  books,  Sam, 
tor  no  man  is  better  skillfiH  in  Immnn  no«-nr  n^A  a.^ ^.  :* 


7-„_     il , 


ijp-i^U 


198 


QIPSETINO 


f     .1, 


yourself.'  "What  a  reproachful  look  she  gave  me  then!  *Good. 
bye,  dear  1' 

"  Well,  when  I  closed  the  door,  and  was  opening  of  the  outer 
one,  I  heard  a  crash.  I  paused  a  moment,  for  I  knew  what  it  was. 
She  had  fainted,  and  foil  into  a  conniption  fit. 

"  '  Sam,'  sais  I  to  myself,  '  shall  I  go  back  V 

"  '  No,'  sais  I,  '  if  you  return  there  will  be  a  scene  ;  and  if  you 
don't,  if  she  can't  account  naterally  for  it,  the  devil  can't,  that's 
all.' 

"  Doctor,  I  felt  guilty,  I  tell  you.  I  had  taken  a  great  many 
rises  out  of  folks  in  my  time,  but  that's  the  only  one  1  repent  of. 
Tell  you  what.  Doctor,  folks  may  talk  about  their  southern  gentle- 
men, their  New  York  prince  merchants,  and  so  on,  but  the  clear 
frit,  bottom  and  game,  is  New  England  (Yankee-doodle-dum). 
lale  or  female,  young  or  old,  I'll  back  'em  agin  all  creation." 
Squire,  show  this  chapter  to  Lord  Tandembery,  if  you  know 
him ;  and  if  you  don't,  Uncle  Tom  Lavender  will  give  you  a  letter 
of  introduction  to  him  ;  and  then  ask  him  if  ever  he  has  suffered 
half  so  much  as  Sam  Slick  has  in  the  cause  of  edication. 


*iM 


P\ 


CHAPTER   XV. 


GIPSEYING. 


Wk  tried  the  deck  again,  but  the  fog  was  too  disagreeable  to 
remain  there,  for  the  water  fell  from  the  ropes  in  such  large  drops, 
and  the  planks  were  so  wet  and  slippery,  we  soon  adjourned  again 
to  the  cabin. 

"  1  have  to  thank  you,  Doctor,"  said  I,  "  for  a  most  charming 
day  at  the  Beaver  Dam.  That  was  indeed  a  day  in  the  woods,  and 
I  believe  every  one  there  knew  how  to  enjoy  it.  How  diffei-ent  it 
is  from  people  in  a  town  here,  who  go  out  to  the  country  for  a  pic- 
nic. A  citizen  thinks  the  pleasure  of  gipseying,  as  they  call  it  in 
England,  consists  solely  in  the  abundance  and  variety  of  the  viands, 
the  quality  and  quantity  of  the  wines,  and  as  near  an  approach  to 
ft  city  dinner,  as  it  is  possible  to  have,  where  there  are  neither 
tables  nor  chairs,  side-boards,  removes.  He  selects  his  place  for 
the  encampment  in  the  first  opening  adjoining  the  clearing,  as  it 
commands  a  noble  view  of  the  harbor,  and  there  is  grass  enough 
to  recline  upon.  The  woods  are  gloomy,  the  footing  is  slippery, 
sad  there  is  nothing  to  be  seen  in  a  forest  l)ut  trees,  windfalls  which 
are  difficult  to  climb,  and  boggy  ground  that  wets  your  feet,  and 


GIP8ETTNG. 


199 


I  then!    'Good. 


makes  you  feel  uncomfortable.  The  limbs  arc  eternally  knocking, 
your  hat  offj  and  the  spruce  gum  ruins  your  clotbes,  while  ladies, 
like  sheep,  are  forever  leaving  fnigments  of  their  dress  on  every 
bush.  He  chooses  the  skirts  of  the  forest,  therefore,  the  background 
is  a  glorious  wood,  and  the  foreground  is  diversified  by  the  ship- 
ping. The  o-heaveo  of  the  sailors,  as  it  rises  and  falls  in  the  dis- 
Uince,  is  music  to  his  ears,  and  suggestive  of  agreeable  reflections, 
or  profitable  conversation  peculiarly  appropriate  to  the  place  and 
the  occHi,  ')n.  The  prif-e  of  fish  in  the  West  Indies,  or  of  deals  in 
Liverpool,  or  the  probable  rise  of  floui  in  the  market,  amuse  the 
vacant  mind  of  himself  and  his  partner,  not  his  wife,  for  she  is  only 
his  sleeping  partner,  but  the  vigilant  partner  of  the  firm,  one  of 
those  who  are  embraced  in  the  comprehensive  term  the  '  Co.'  He 
is  the  depository  of  his  secrets,  the  other  of  his  complaints. 

"  His  wife  is  equally  happy,  she  enjoys  it  uncommonly,  for  she 
'xnows  >fc  will  spite  those  horrid  Mudges.  She  is  determined  not  to 
Invito  thein,  for  they  mrke  too  much  noise,  it  gives  her  the  head- 
ache, and  their  flirting  is  too  bad.  Mrs.  White  called  them  garri- 
son hacks.  And  besides  (for  women  always  put  the  real  reason 
last— they  live  in  a  postscript^  they  don't  deserve  it,  for  they  left 
htr  girls  out  when  they  had  the  lobster  spearing  party  by  torch- 
light, with  the  officers  of  the  flag-ship,  though  that  was  no  loss,  for 
by  all  aoxjounts  it  was  a  very  romping  party,  knocking  off"  the  men's 
hats,  and  then  exchanging  their  bonnets  for  thsm.  And  how  any 
mother  could  allow  her  daughter  to  be  held  round  the  waist  by 
the  flag-lieutenant,  while  she  leaned  over  the  boat  to  spear  the  fish, 
is  a  mystery  to  her.  The  polka  is  bad  enough,  but  to  her  mind, 
that  is  not  decent,  and  then  she  has  something  to  whisper  about  it, 
that  she  says  is  oo  bad,  (this  is  a  secret  though,  and  she  must 
whisper  it,  for  walls  have  ears,  and  who  knows  but  trees  have,  and 
besides,  the  good  things  are  never  repeated,  but  the  too  bad  always 
is),  and  Mrs.  Black  lifts  up  both  her  hands,  and  the  whites  of  both 
eyes  in  perfect  horror. 

"  *  Now  did  you  ever  !     Oh,  is  that  true  ?     Why,  you  dont !' 

"  '•  Lucy  Green  saw  him  with  her  own  eyes,'  and  she  opens  her 
own  as  big  as  saucers. 

"  '  And  what  did  Miss  Mudge  say  V 

"  '  Well,  upon  my  word,'  said  she,  "I  wonder  what  you  will  do 
next,'  and  laughed  so  they  nearly  fell  overboard.' 

"  '  Oh,  what  carryings  on,  ain't  it,  dear.  But  I  wonder  where 
Sarah  Matilda  is  1  I  don't  see  her  and  Captain  de  la  Cour.  I  am 
afraid  she  will  get  lost  in  the  woods,  and  that  would  make  people 
talk  as  they  did  about  Miss  Mudge  and  Doctor  Vincent,  who 
couldn't  find  their  way  out  once  till  nine  o'clock  at  night.' 

"  They'll  soon  get  back,  dear,'  sais  the  other,  '  let  them  be,  it 
looks  like  watching  them,  and  you  know,'  laying  an  emphasis  on 


200 


GIPSETING. 


MMEmii.    I 


vou,  *  you  and  I  were  young  once  ourselves,  and  so  they  will  com** 
back  when  they  want  to,  for  though  the  woods  have  no  straight 
paths  in  them,  they  have  short  cuts  enough  for  them  that's  in  a 
hurry.  Cupid  has  no  watch,  dear ;  his  fob  is  for  a  purae,'  and  she 
smiles  wicked  on  the  mother  of  the  heiress. 

"  Well,  then,  who  can  sav  this  is  not  a  pleasant  day  to  both 
parties.  The  old  gentlemen  have  their  nice  snug  business  chat,  and 
the  old  ladies  hpve  their  nice  snug  gossip  chat,  and  the  third  estate, 
(as  the  head  of  the  firm  calls  it,  who  was  lately  elected  member  for 
Grumble  Town,  and  begins  to  talk  parliamentary,)  the  third  estate, 
the  young  folks,  the  people  of  progression,  who  are  not  behind  but 
rather  ahead  of  the  age  they  live  in,  don't  they  enjoy  themselves? 
It  is  very  hard  if  youth,  beauty,  health,  good  spirits,  and  a  desire 
to  pleasC;  (because  if  people  havn't  that  they  had  better  stay  to 
home)  can't  or  won't  make  people  happy.  I  don't  mean  for  to  go 
for  to  say,  that  will  ensure  it,  because  nothin'  i.=«  certain,  and  I  have 
known  many  a  gall  that  resembled  a  bottle  of  beautiful  wine.  You 
will  find  one  sometimes  as  enticin'  to  appearance  as  ever  was,  but 
shake  it  up  and  there  is  grounds  there  for  all  that,  settled,  but  still 
there,  and  enough  too  to  spile  all,  so  you  can't  put  it  to  your  lips 
any  how  you  can-  fix  it.  What  a  pity  it  is  sweet  things  turn  sour 
ain't  it.  ' 

"But  in  a  general  way  these  things  will  make  folks  happy. 

There  are  some  sword  knots  there,  and  they  do  look  very  like 

woodmen,  that's  a  fact.     Jf  you  never  saw  a  forrester,  you  would 

swear  to  them  as  perfect.     A  wide-awake  hat,  with  a  little  short 

pipe  stuck  in  it,  a  pair  of  whiskers  that  will  be  grand  when  they 

are  a  few  years  ollsr-a  coarse  check,  or  red  flannel  shirt,  a  loose 

neckhandkerchief,  tied  with  a  sailor's  knot— a  cut-away  jacket,  with 

lots  of  pockets— a  belt,  but  little  or  no  waistcoat  — hoxnespun 

trowsers  and  thick  buskins— a  rough  glove  and  a  delicate  white 

hand,  the  real,  easy,  and  natural  gait  of  the  woodman,  (only  it's 

apt  to  be  a  little,  just  a  little  too  stiff,  on  account  of  the  ramrod 

they  have  to  keep  in  their  throats  while  on  parade,)  when  com- 

bmed,  actilly  beat  natur,  for  they  are  too  nateral.     Oh,   these 

amateur  woodsmen  enact  their  parts  so  well,  you  think  you 'almost 

see  the  identical  thing  itself.     And  then  they  have  had  the  advan- 

tage  of  Woolitch  or  Sandhurst,  or  Chobham,  and  are  dabs  at  a 

bivouac,  grand  hands  with  an  axe— cut  a  hop-pole  down  in  half  a- 

day  amost,  and  in  the  other  half  stick  it  into  the  ground.     I  don't 

make  no  doubt  in  three  or  four  days  they  could  build  a  wigwam 

to  sleep  in,  and  one  night  out  of  four  under  cover  is  a  great^  deal 

for  aa  amateur  hunter,  though  it  ain't  the  smallest  part  of  a  cir- 

cumstance  to  the  Crimea.     As  it  is,  if  a  stick  ain't  too  big  for  a 

fire,  say  not  larger  than  your  finger,  they  can  break  it  over  their 

knee,  sooner  than  you  could  cut  it  with  a  hatchet  for  your  life,  and 


s,  and  a  desire 


GIPSEYING.  i^ 

fee  how  soon  it's  In  a  blaze.  Take  them  altogether  they  are  a  kil 
Img  party  of  coons  them,  never  miss  a  moose  if  they  shoot  out  of 
an  Indian  s  gun,  and  use  a  silver  bullet. 

"  Well,  then,  the  young  ladies  are  equipped  so  nicely--they  have 
iiRlics  to  their  bonnets,  the  only  thing  ugly  about  thorn,  for  at  a 
distance  they  look  like  huge  green  spectacles.     They  are  very 
useful  -n  the  forest,  for  there  is  a  great  glare  of  the  sun  generally 
under  trees,  or  else  they  havo  green  bonnets,  that  look  like  eagle's 
skins— thm  dresses,  strong  ones  are  too  heavy,  and  they  don't  dis- 
play  the  beauty  of  nature  enough,  they  are  so  high,  and  the  wholo 
object  of  the  party  is  to  admire  that.     Their  walking  shoes  are 
ight  and   thin,   they   don't  fatigue   you   like  coarse  ones,    and 
India-rubbers  are  hideous,  they  make  your  feet  as  if  they  had  the 
gout,  ana  they  have  such  pretty,  dear  little  aprons,  how  rural  it 
looks  altogether-they  act  a  day  in  the  woods  to  admiration. 
Ihree  ot  the  officers  have  nicknames,  a  very  nice  thing  to  induce 
good  fellowship,  especially  as  it  has  no  tendency  whatever  to  pro- 
mote quarrels.     There  is  Lauder,  of  the  rifles,  he  is  so  short,  they 
call  him  Pistol,  he  has  a  year  to  grow  yet,  and  may  become  a  great 
gun  some  of  these  days.     Russel  takes  a  joke  good  humoredly  and 
therefore  is  so  fortunate  as  to  get  more  than  his  share  of  them,  ac- 
cordingly  he  goes  by  the  name  of  Target,  as  every  one  takes  a  shC;  at 
mm.     Duke  is  so  bad  a  shot,  he  has  twice  nearly  pinked  the 
marksman,  so  he  is  called  Trigger.     He  always  lays  the  blame  of 
his  want  of  skill  on  that  unfortunate  appendage  of  the  gun,  as  it  is 
either  too  hard  or  too  quick  on  the  finger.     Then  there  is  young 
Bulger,  and  as  everybody  pronounces  it  as  if  it  had  two  *  g's'  in  it, 
he  corrects  them  and  says  'g'  soft,  my  dear  fellow,  if  you  please ;' 
so  he  goes  by  the  name  of  '  G'  soft.     Oh,  the  conversation  of  the 
third  estate  is  so  pretty,  I  could  listen  to  it  for  ever. 

"  '  Aunt,'  sais  Miss  Diantha,  'do  you  know  what  gyp — gypsy 

gypsy  mum— gypsy  muming  is?     Did  you  ever  hear 'bow  I  stuttei 
to-day  ?     I  can't  get  a  word  out  hardly.     Aint  it  provoking  1  " 

"  Well,  stammering  is  provoking ;  but  a  pretty  little  accidental 
impediment  of  speech  like  that,  accompanied  with  a  little  graceful 
bob  of  the  head,  is  very  taking,  ain't  it  1 ' 

" '  Gypsuming,'  sais  the  wise  matron,  <  is  the  plaster  of  Paris 
trade,  dear.     They  carry  it  on  at  Windsor,  your  father  says.' 

'^Pistol  gives  Target  a  wink,  for  they  are  honoring  the  party  by 
their  company,  though  the  mother  of  one  keeps  a  lodging  house  at 
Bath,  and  the  father  of  the  other  makes  real  genuine  East  India 
curry  in  London.  They  look  down  on  the  whole  of  the  owns- 
people.     !t  is  natural ;  pot  always  calls  kettle  an  ugly  name. 

"  '  No,  Ma,'  sais  Di— all  the  girls  address  her  as  Di ;  ain't  it  a 
pretty  abbreviation  for  a  die-away  young  lady  1    But  she  is  not  a 
die-away  lass ;  she  is  more  of  a  Di  Vernon.     "  No,  Ma,'  sais  Di, 
9* 


/  .««p''^  ^4$itv^ 


^pip  i^Hp^ 


i 


iin 


209 


G  I  P  S  R  Y  I N  O  . 


*  g'psey — ing,  what  a  hard  word  it  is !     Mr.  Ru^sel  Aays  it's  wlial 
they  call  those  parties  in  England.     It  is  so  like  the  gipsy  life.' 

"  '  There  is  one  point,'  sais  Pistol,  '  in  which  they  differ.' 

"«  What's  that?-  sais  Di. 

"  '  Do  you  give  it  up  ?  '  v 

"  *  Yes.' 

"  *  There  the  gipsy  girls  steal  poultry ;  and  hero  th  ^y  si(  al 
hearts,'  and  he  puts  his  left  hand  by  mistake  on  his  breast,  not 
knowing  that  the  pulsation  there  indicates  his  lungs,  and  not  his 
gizzard,  is  affected — that  ho  is  hrokenwinded,  and  not  broken- 
hearted, 

"  '  V  3ry  good,'  every  one  sais ;  but  still  every  one  hasn't  heard 
it,  so  it  has  to  be  repeated  ;  and  v^hat  is  worse,  as  the  habits  of  the 
gipsies  are  not  known  to  all,  the  point  has  to  be  explained. 

"  Target  says,  '  he  will  send  it  to  the  paper,  and  put  Trigger's 
name  to  it,'  and  Pistol  says,  '  that  io  capital,  for  if  he  calls  you  out, 
he  can't  hit  you,'  and  there  is  a  joyous  laugh.  Oh  dear,  but  a  day 
in  the  woods  is  a  pleasant  thing.  For  my  own  part,  I  must  say  I 
quite  agree  with  the  hosier,  who,  when  he  first  went  to  New  Or- 
leens,  and  sa,w  such  a  swad  of  people  there  said,  he  '  didn't  onder- 
stand  how  on  earth  it  was  that  folks  liked  to  live  in  a  heap  that 
way,  altogether,  -"here  there  was  no  corn  to  plant,  and  no  bears  to 
kill.' 

" '  My,  oh  my  !'  says  Miss  Lstitia,  or  Let-kiss-you,  as  Pistol  used 
to  call  hei*.  People  ought  to  be  cai*eful  what  names  they  give  th'»ir 
children,  so  us  folks  can't  fasten  nicknames  cu  'em.  Before  others, 
the  girls  called  her  Letty,  and  that's  well  enough  ;  but  sometimes 
they  would  call  her  Let,  whi'^.h  is  the  devil.  [,'  a  man  can't  give  a 
pretty  fortune  to  his  child,  he  can  give  it  a  pretty  name,  at  any 
rale. 

"  There  was  ^  very  large  family  of  Cards  wun^t  to  Slickville. 
They  were  mostly  m  the  stage-coach  and  livery-stable  line,  and 
careless,  reckless  sort  of  people.  So  one  day,  Squire  Zenas  Card 
had  a  christenin'  at  his  house. 

"  Says  the  Minister,  '  what  shall  1  call  him  V 

"  '  Pontius  Pilate,'  said  he. 

"  '  I  can't,'  said  Minister,  '  and  1  wont.  No  soul  ever  heerd  of 
Buch  a  name  for  a  Christian  since  baptism  came  in  fashion.' 

"  'I  am  sorry  for  that,'  said  the  Squire,  '  for  it's  a  mighty  pretty 
name.  I  heard  it  once  in  church,  and  1  thought  if  ever  I  had  a  son 
I'de  call  him  after  him  ;  but  if  I  can't  have  that — and  it's  a  dread- 
ful pitv — call  him  trump  ;'  and  he  was  christened  Trump  Card. 

"  '  Oh  my  1'  sais  Miss  Letitia,  lispin',  '  Captain  de  la  Cour  has 
smashed  my  bonnet,  see  he  is  setting  upon  it.     Did  you  ever  V 

" '  Never,'  said  Di,  '  he  has  converted  your  cottage  bonnet  into  a 
country  seat,  I  do  declare  !' 


O  J(  P  8  E  T  :  N  G  . 


203 


I,  as  Pistol  used 


"  Everybody  exclaimed,  '  that  is  excellent,'  wid  Runsel  sail 
•capital,  by  Jove.'  ^ 

"  'That  kind  of  thlnf^,'  said  de  la  Cour,  '  is  more  honored  in  the 
breach,  than  tlie  observance,'  '^^^d  winked  to  Target. 

I'  Miss  Di  is  en  inveterate  punster,  so  she  returns  to  the  charf  a. 
Letty,  what  fish  is  that,  the  name  of  which  would  express  all 
you  f'ftid  about  your  bonnet  I—do  you  give  it  up  J  A  bonnet-o  !' 
(Boneto).  ^ 

'' '  Weil,  I  can't  fathom  that,'  sais  De  la  Cour. 

"  « I  don't  wonder  at  that,'  soys  the  invincible  Di ;  'It  is  beyond 
your  depth,  for  it  h  an  oi  it  of  soundings  fish.' 

"  Poor  De  la  Cour,  you  had  better  let  her  alone,  she  is  lOo  many 
gims  for  you.  Scratch  your  head,  for  your  curls  and  your  name  are 
all  that  you  have  to  be  proud  of.  Lee  her  alone,  .he  is  wicked,  and 
she  13  meditating  a  name  for  you  and  Pi^  ],  that  will  stick  to  you 
as  long  as  you  live;  she  has  it  on  the  tip  of  her  tongue:  'lio 
babes  in  the  wood.'  ^  • 

"  Now  for  the  baskets—now  for  the  s'  ^-ead.  The  old  gentlemen 
break  up  their  Lloyds'  meeting— the  cid  ladies  break  up  their 
scandal  club— the  young  ladies  and  their  beaux  are  busy  in  arrange- 
ments, and  though  the  corkscrews  are  no'vhere  to  be  found,  Pistol 
has  his  in  one  of  the  many  pock'^ts  of  his  woodman's  coat,  he  never 
goes  without  it,  (like  one  of  his  mother's  waiters),  which  he  calls 
lus  young  man's  best  companion,'  and  which  another,  who  was  a 
year  m  an  attorney's  office,  while  wsiting  for  his  commission,  o^lla 
•the  crown  circuit  assistant,'  and  a  third,  who  has  just  arrived  in  a 
Etearncr  designates  as  '  the  sr-ew  propeller,'  it  w  as  a  sensible  provi- 
sion,  and  Miss  Di  said  '  a  corkscrew  and  a.  pocket  pl-itol  were  better 
suited  to  him  than  a  rifle,'  and  every  one  said  it  was  a  canital  joke 
that--^or  everybody  likes  a  shot  that  don't  hit  themselves.       ' 

.< .  ¥?  p  *°"Sh  the  goose  is  !'  sais  G  soft.     « I  can't  carve  it.* 
Ah  !'  sais  Di,  '  when  Greek  meets  Greek,  then  comes  the  tuc 
of  war.'  ° 

"  Eating  and  talking  lasts  a  good  while,  but  they  don't  last  for 
ever.  The  ladies  leave  the  gentlemen  to  commence  their  smoking, 
and  hnish  their  drinking,  and  presently  there  is  a  loud  laugh  :  it's 
more  than  a  laugh,  it's  a  roar ;  and  tl.  -  ladies  turn  round  and  won- 
der. 

II  Letty  sais,  '  when  the  wine  is  i.i,  the  wit  is  out.' 
True,'  sais  Di,  '  the  wine  is  there,  but  when  you  left  them,  the 
wit  went  out.' 

" '  Rather  severe,'  said  Letty. 

"  '  Not  at  ill,'  sais  Di,  '  for  I  was  with  you.' 
It  is  the  last  shot  of  poor  Di.     She  won't  take  the  trouble  to 
talk  well  for  ladies,  and  those  horrid  Mudges  have  a  party  on  pur- 
pose to  take  away  all  the  pleasant  men.    She  never  passed  so 


204 


GIP8ETING. 


,;1 


I'm  I . 


I 


s    ■« 


;l    h 


i  I 


^^^ 

nK^ 


Stupid  a  day.  She  hates  picnics,  and  will  never  go  to  one  again, 
De  la  Cour  is  a  fool,  and  is  as  full  of  airs  as  a  night  hawk  is  of 
feathers.  Pistol  is  a  bore ;  Target  is  both  poor  and  stingy  ;  Trig, 
ger  thinks  more  of  himself  than  anybody  else  ;  and  as  for  G  soft 
he  is  a  goose.  She  will  never  speak  to  Pippen  again  for  not  com- 
ing. They  are  a  poor  set  of  devils  in  the  garrison ;  she  is  glad 
they  are  to  have  a  new  regiment. 

"  Letty  hasn't  enjoyed  herself,  either,  she  has  been  devoured  by 
black  flies  and  musquitoes,  and  has  got  her  feet  wet,  and  is  so  tired 
she  can't  go  to  the  ball.  The  sleeping  partner  of  the  head  of  the 
firm  is  out  of  sorts,  too.  Her  crony-gossip  gave  her  a  sly  poke 
early  in  the  day,  to  show  her  she  recollected  when  she  was  young 
(not  that  she  is  so  old  now,  either,  for  she  knows  the  grave  gentle- 
man who  visits  at  her  house  is  said  to  like  the  mother  better  than 
the  daughter)  but  before  she  %yas  married,  and  friends  who  have 
such  wonderful  memories  are  not  very  pleasant  companions,  though 
it  don't  do  to  have  them  for  enemies.  But  then,  poor  thing,  and 
she  consoles  herself  with  the  idea  the  poor  thing  has  daughters  her- 
self, and  they  are  as  ugly  as  sin,  and  not  half  so  agreeable.  But 
it  isn't  that  altogether.  Sarah  Matilda  should  not  have  gone  wan- 
dering  out  of  hearing  with  the  Captain,  and  she  must  give  her  a 
piece  of  her  mind  about  it,  for  there  is  a  good  deal  of  truth  in  the 
old  saying,  '  if  the  girls  won't  run  after  the  men,  the  men  will  run 
after  them  ;'  so  she  calls  out  loudly,  '  Sarah  Matilda.  Love,  come 
here,  dear,'  and  Sarah  Matilda  knows  when  the  honey  is  produced, 
physic  is  to  be  taken  ;  but  she  knows  she  is  under  observation,  and 
so  she  flies  to  her  dear  mamma,  with  the  feet  and  face  of  an  Pugel, 
and  they  gradually  withdraw. 

"  '  Dear  ma,  how  tired  you  look.' 

" '  I  am  not  tired,  dear.' 

"  '  Well,  you  don't  look  well ;  is  anything  the  matter  with 
you?' 

" '  I  didn't  say  I  wasn't  well,  and  it's  very  rude  to  remark  on 
one's  looks  that  way.' 

" '  Something  seems  to  have  put  you  out  of  sorts,  ma,  I  will  run 
and  call  pa.  Dear  me,  I  feel  frightened.  Shall  I  ask  Mrs.  Baw- 
don  for  her  salts  V 

" '  You  know  very  well  .that's  the  matter  :  it's  Captain  De  la 
Cour.' 

"  '  Well,  now,  how  strange,'  said  Sarah  Matilda.  *  I  told  him 
he  had  better  go  and  walk  with  you ;  I  wanted  him  to  do  it ;  I  told 
him  you  liked  attention.  Yes,  I  knew  you  would  be  angry,  but  it 
isn't  my  fault.     It  ain't  indeed. 

"'Well,  I  am  astonished,'  replies  the  horrified  mothei*.  'I 
never  in  all  my  life.  So  you  told  him  !  liked  aiieullon.  I,  your 
mother,  your  father's  wife,  with  my  position  in  sociQtee,  and  pr«j 
M'hat  answer  did  he  make  to  this  strange  conduct  V 


GIPSKTINGo 


205 


Captain  De  la 


"  *  He  said ;  no  wonder,  you  were  the  handsomest  woman  in 
town,  and  so  agreeable  ;  the  only  one  fit  to  talk  to.' 
"  '  And  you  have  the  face  to  admit  you  listened  to  such  stuff.' 
" '  I  could  listen  all  day  to  it,  ma,  for  I  knew  it  was  true.     I 
never  saw  you  look  so  lovely,  the  new  bishop  has  improved  your 
appearance  amazingly.' 

" '  Who  V  said  the  mother,  with  an  hysterical  scream ;  '  what  do 
you  mean  V 

" '  The  new  bustler,  ma.* 

" '  Oh,'  said  she,  quite  relieved,  '  oh,  do  you  think  so  V 

" '  But  what  did  you  want  of  me,  ma.' 

•"Tu  fasten  my  gown,  dear,  there  is  a  hook  come  undone.' 

"  '  Coming,'  she  said,  in  a  loud  voice. 

"There  was  nobody  calling,  but  somebody  ought  to  have 
oalled;  so  she  f'-.stens  the  hook,  and  flies  back  as  fast  as  she 
came. 

"Sarah  Matilda,  you  were  not  born  yesterday;  first  you  put 
your  mother  on  the  defensive,  and  then  you  stroked  her  down  with 
tbp  grain,  and  made  her  feel  good  all  over,  while  you  escaped  from 
a  scolding  you  know  you  deserved.  A  jealous  mother  makes  an 
artfil  daughter.  But  Sarah  Matilda,  one  word  in  your  ear.  Art 
ain't  cleverness,  and  cunning  ain't  understanding.  Semblance 
only  answers  once ;  the  second  time  the  door  ain't  opened  to  it. 

"  Henrietta  is  all  adrift,  too ;  she  is  an  old  maid,  and  Di  nick- 
named her  '  the  old  hen.'  She  has  been  shamefully  neglected  to- 
day. The  young  men  have  been  flirting  about  with  those  forward 
young  girls— children— mere  children,  and  have  not  had  the 
civility  to  exchange  a  word  with  her.  The  old  ladies  have  been 
whispering  gossip  all  day,  and  the  old  gentlemen  busy  talking 
about  freights,  the  Fall-catch  of  macarel,  and  ship-building.  Nor 
could  their  talk  have  been  solely  confined  to  these  subjects,  for  once 
when  she  approached  them,  she  heard  the  head  of  the  firm  say  : 

" '  The  "  lovely  lass"  must  be  thrown  down  and  scraped,  for'she 
IS  so  foul,  and  her  knees  are  all  (;;one.' 

"  And  so  she  turned  away  in  disgust.     Catch  her  at  a  pic-nic 
agam  !     No,  never  !     It  appears  the  worlu  is  changed  ;  girls  in  her 
day  were  never  allowed  to  romp  that  way,  and  men  used  to  have 
some  manners.     Things  have  come  to  a  pretty  pass! 
"  '  Alida,  is  that  you,  dear  1     You  look  dul'i.' 
"  '  Oh,  Henrietta !  I  have  torn  my  beautiful  thread  lace  mantilla 
all  to  rags ;  it's  ruined  for  ever.  •  And  do  you  know— oh,  /  don't 
know  how  I  shall  ever  dare  to  face  ma  again  !    I  have  lost  her  beau- 
tiful little  enanrielled  watch.     Some  of  these  horrid  branches  h..ve 
pulled  it  olT  the  chain.'      And   AUda  cries  and  is  consoled  by 
Henrietta,  who  is  a  good-natured  creature  after  all.     She  tells  her 
lor  her  comfort  that  nobody  should  ever  think  of  wearing  a  delicate 


206 


GIPBEYINQ 


ilHi'si! 


m 


,\»\ 

■■'(f 


and  expaisive  lace  mantilla  in  the  woods ;  sha  could  not  expect 
Anything  else  than  to  have  it  destroyed;  and  as  for  exposing  a 
beautiful  gold  watch  outside  of  her  dress,  nobody  in  her  sense? 
would  have  thought  of  such  a  thing.  Of  course  she  was  greatly 
comforted :  kind  words  and  a  kind  manner  will  console  any  one. 

"  It  is  time  now  to  re-assemble,  and  the  party  are  gathered  once 
more  ;  and  the  ladies  have  found  their  smiles  again,  and  A  lida  has 
found  her  watch ;  and  there  are  to  be  some  toasts  and  some  songs 
before  parting.  All  is  jollity  once  more,  and  the  head  of  the  firm 
and  his  vigilant  partner,  and  the  officers  have  all  a  drop  in  their 
eye,  and  Henrietta  is  addressed  by  the  junior  partner,  who  is  a 
bachelor  of  about  her  own  age,  and  who  assures  her  he  never  saw 
her  look  bettei- ;  and  she  looks  delighted,  and  is  delighted,  and 
thinks  a  pic-nic  not  so  bad  a  thing  after  all. 

"  But  there  is  a  retributive  justice  in  this  world.  Even  pic-nic 
parties  have  their  moral,  and  folly  itself  affords  an  example  from 
which  a  wise  saw  may  be  extracted.  Captain  De  Courcy  addresses 
her,  and  after  all  he  has  the  manners  and  appearance  of  a  gentle- 
man, though  it  is  whispered  he  is  fond  of  practical  pkea,  pulls  'colt 
ensigns'  out  of  bed,  ms.kes  them  go  throuf^h  their  sword  exercise 
standing  shirtless  in  their  tubs,  and  so  on.  There  is  one  re- 
deeming thing  in  the  story,  if  it  be  true,  he  never  was  known  to 
do  it  to  a  young  nobleman ;  he  is  too  well  bred  for  that.  He 
talks  to  her  of  society  as  it  was  before  good-breeding  was  reformed 
out  of  the  colonies.  She  is  delighted  ;  but,  oh !  was  it  stupidity, 
or  was  it  insolence,  or  was  it.  cruelty  ?  he  asked  her  if  she  recollect- 
ed the  Duke  of  Kent.  To  be  sure  it  is  only  fifty-two  years  since 
he  was  here ;  but  to  have  recollected  him !  How  old  did  he 
suppose  she  was  1  She  bears  it  well  and  meekly.  It  is  not  the 
first  time  she  has  been  painfully  reminded  she  was  not  young.  She 
says  }  »*  grandmother  often  spoke  of  him  as  a  good  officer  and  a 
handsome  man  ;  and  she  laughs  though  her  heart  aches  the  while, 
as  if  it  was  a  good  joke  to  ask  her.  He  backs  out  as  soon  as  he 
can.  He  meant  well  though  he  had  expressed  himself  awkwardly ; 
but  to  back  out  shows  you  are  in  the  wrong  stall,  a  place  you 
have  no  business  in,  and  being  out,  he  thinks  it  as  well  to  jog  on 
to  another  place. 

"  Ah  Henrietta !  you  were  unkind  to  Alida  about  her  lace 
mantilla  and  her  gold  watch,  and  it  has  come  home  to  you.  You 
ain't  made  of  glass,  and  nothing  else  will  hold  vinegar  long  without 
being  corroded  itself. 

"  Well,  the  toasts  are  drunk,  and  the  men  are  not  far  from  being 
drunk  ;oo,  and  feats  of  agility  are  proposed,  and  they  jump  up 
and  catch  a  springing  bow,  and  turn  a  somerset  on  it,  or  over  it, 
aud  they  are  cheered  and  applauded  when  De  Courcy  pausea 
In.  mid-air  for  a  moment,  as  if  uncertain  what  to  do.     Has  the 


OIPSEYINO. 


207 


bough  given  way,  or  was  that  the  sound  of  cloth  rent  in  twain. 
Something  lias  gone  wrong,  for  he  is  greeted  with  uproarious 
cheers  by  the  men,  and  he  drops  on  his  feet,  and  retires  from  the 
company  as  from  the  presence  of  royalty,  by  backing  out  and 
bowing  as  he  goes,  repeatedly  stumbling,  and  once  or  twice  falling 
in  his  retrograde  motion. 

"  Ladies  never  lose  their  tact — they  a^^  no  questions  because 
they  see  something  is  amiss,  and  though  it  is  hard  to  subdue 
curiosity,  propriety  sometimes  restrains  it.  They  join  in  the 
general  laugh,  hov/ever,  for  it  can  be  nothing  serious  where  his 
friends  make  mwrry  with  it.  When  he  retires  from  view,  his 
health  is  drank  with  three  times  three.  Di,  who  seemed  to  take 
pleasure  in  annoying  the  spinster,  said  she  had  a  great  mind  not  to 
join  in  that  toast,  for  he  was  a  loose  fellow,  otherwise  he  would 
have  rent  his  heart  and  not  his  garments.  It  is  a  pity  arclever 
girl  like  her  will  let  her  tongue  run  that  way,  for  it  leads  them  to 
say  things  they  ought  not.  Wit  in  a  woman  is  a  dangerous  thing, 
like  a  doctor's  lancet,  it  is  apt  to  be  employed  about  matters  that 
offend  our  delicacy,  or  hurt  our  feelings." 

'"What  the  devil  is  that"?'  said  the  head  of  the  firm,  looking  up, 
as  a  few  drops  of  rain  fell.  'Why,  here  is  a  thunder  shower 
coming  on  us  as  sure  as  the  world.  Con.*e,  let  us  pack  up  and 
be  off.' 

"  And  the  servants  are  urged  to  be  expeditious,  and  the  sword 
knots  tumble  the  glass  into  the  baskets,  and  the  cold  hams  a  top 
of  them,  and  break  the  decanters  to  make  them  stow  better,  and 
the  head  of  the  firm  swears,  and  the  sleeping  partner  says  she  will 
faint,  she  could  never  abide  thunder ;  and  Di  tells  her  if  she  does 
not  want  to  abide  all  night,  she  had  better  move,  ar.d  a  vivid  flash 
of  lightning  giver,  notice  to  quit,  and  t:;ars  and  screams  attest  the 
notice  is  received,  and  the  retreat  is  commenced;  but  alas,  the  car- 
riages are  a  mile  and  a  half  off,  and  the  tempest  rages  and  the  rain 
falls  in  torrents,  and  the  thunder  stuns  them,  and  the  lightning 
bliiids  them. 

" '  What's  the  use  of  hurrying,'  says  Di,  '  we  are  now  wet 
through,  and  our  clothes  are  spoiled,  and  I  think  we  might  take  it 
leisurely.     Pistoi,  take  my  arm,  I  am  not  afraid  of  you  now.' 

"  ■  Why  V 

" '  Your  powder  is  wet,  and  you  can't  go  off.  You  are  quite 
harmless.     Target,  you  had  better  run.' 

" '  Why  f 

"  '  You  will  be  sure  to  be  hit,  if  you  don't — won't  he.  Trigger  V 

''  But  Pistol,  and  Target,  and  Tri^  er  are  alike  silent.  G  soft 
has  lost  his  softness,  and  lets  fall  some  hard  terms.  Every  one 
holds  down  his  head,  why,  I  can't  understand^  because  being  soaked, 
tha^  attitude  can't  dry  them. 


-J" 


t.- " '  f •j^^JSVij 


203 


GIPSETING. 


ult 


'■ 


f  i^iii"!' 


" '  Uncle,'  says  Di,  to  the  head  of  the  firm,  *  you  appear  to  enjoy 
it,  you  are  buttoning  up  your  coat  as  if  you  wanted  to  keep  the 
rain  in.' 

"  '  I  wish  you  would  keep  your  tongue  in,'  he  said  gruffly. 

"  '  I  came  for  a  party  of  pleasure,'  said  the  unconquerable  girl 
'  and  I  think  there  is  great  fun  in  this.  Hen,  I  feel  sorrv  for  you' 
you  can't  stand  the  wet  as  those  darling  ducks  can.  Xunt  'will 
shake  herself  directly,  and  be  as  dry  as  an  India  rubber  model' 

"  A.unt  is  angry,  but  can't  ansxyer— every  clap  of  thunder  makes 
her  scream.  Sarah  Matilda  has  lost  her  t;hoe,  and  the  water  has 
closed  over  it,  and  she  can't  find  it.  '  Pistol,  where  is  your  cork- 
screw,  draw  it  out.'  " 

" '  It'3  all  your  fault,'  sais  the  sleeping  partner,  to  the  head  of 
the  firm,  'I  told  you  to  bring  the  umbrellas.' 

"  '  It's  all  yours,'  retorts  the  afflicted  husband,  *  I  told  you  these 
things  were  all  nonsense  and  more  trouble  than  they  were  worth.' 

"  '  It's  all  Hen's  fault,'  said  Di,  '  for  we  came  on  purpose  to 
bring  her  out ;  she  had  never  been  at  a  picnic  before,  and  it's  holi- 
days  now.  Oh !  the  brook  has  risen,  and  the  planks  are  gone,  we 
shall  have  to  wade ;  Hen,  ask  those  men  to  go  before,  I  don't  like 
them  to  see  above  my  ankles.' 

"  '  Catch  me  at  a  picnic  again,'  said  the  terrified  spinster. 

"  '  You  had  better  get  home  from  this  first,  before  you  talk  of 
another,'  sais  Di. 

"  '  Oh,  Di,  Di,'  said  Henrietta,  '  how  can  you  act  so  V 
"  '  You  may  say  Di,  Di,  if  you  please,  dear,'  said  the  tormentor; 
'but  I  never  say  die -and  never  will  while  there  is  life  in  me. 
Letty,  will  you  go  to  the  ball  to-night  ?  we  shall  catch  cold  if  we 
don't ;  for  we  have  two  miles  more  of  the  rain  to  endure  in  the 
open  carriages  before  we  reach  the  ferry-boat,  and  we  shall  be 
chilled  when  we  cease  walking.' 

"  But  Letty  can  do  nothing  but  cry  as  if  she  Avasn't  wet  enough 
already. 

"  '  Good  gracious !'  sais  the  head  of  the  house,  '  the  horses  have 
overturned  the  carriage,  broke  the  pole,  and  run  away.' 

"  '  What's  the  upset  price  of  it,  I  wonder  V  sais  Di,  '  the  horses 
will  make  their  election  sure,'  they  are  at  the  '  head  of  the  pole,  as 
they  have  left,  no  trace  behind.  I  wish  they  had  taken  the  rain 
with  them  also.' 

"  'It's  a  pity  you  wouldn't  rein  your  tongue  in  also,'  said  the 
fractious  uncle. 

" '  Well,  I  will  Nunky,  if  you  will  restrain  your  choler.  De 
Courcy,  the  horses  are  off  at  a  '  smashing  pace ;'  G  soft,  it's  all 

dickeu  with  na  nrww    oinf  \¥ '}       TJ,,<.  *l — i.  :ii. t> i      •  .  . 

ft  noise  m  his  boots,  as  if  he  was  '  churning  butter '     Well,  1 
never  enjoyed  anything  so  much  as  this  in  my  life  ;  I  do  wish  the 


IHE    WORLD    BEFOME    THE     FLOOD. 


209 


0  the  head  of 


Mudges  had  been  here,  it  is  the  only  thing  wanting  to  make  this 
picnic  perfect.     "What  do  you  say,  Target  V 

"  But  Target  don't  answer,  he  only  mutters  between  his  teeth 
somethmg  that  sounds  like,  '  what  a  devil  that  girl  is  !'     Nobody 
minds  teaziug  now ;  their  tempers  are  subdued,  and  they  are  dull 
weary,  and  silent— dissatisfied  with  themselves,  with  each  other* 
and  the  day  of  pleasure.  ' 

»  How  could  it  be  otherwise  ?  It  is  a  thing  they  didn't  under 
stand,  and  had  no  taste  for.  They  took  a  deal  of  trouble  to  get 
away  from  the  main  road  as  far  as  possible;  they  never  penetrated 
farther  mto  the  forest  than  to  obtain  a  shade,  and  there  eat  an 
uncomfortable  cold  dinner,  sitting  on  the  ground,  had  an  ill- 
assorted  party,  provided  no  amusements,  were  thoroughly  bored 
and  drenched  to  the  skin— and  this  some  people  call  a  day  in  the 
bush.  •' 

"  There  is  an  old  proverb,  that  has  a  hidden  meaning  in  it,  that 
IS  applcable  to  this  sort  of  thing—'  As  a  man  calleth  in  the  woods, 
io  it  shall  be  answered  to  him  J" 


le  horses  have 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    WORLD   BEFORi;  THE    FLOOD. 

We  made  another  attempt  at  walking  on  the  deck— the  moon 
was  trymg  to  struggle  through  the  fog,  which  was  now  of  a  bright 
copper  color.  ° 

"  Doctor,"  said  I,  "  have  you  ever  seen  a  yellow  fog.  before  1" 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  have  seen  a  white,  black,  redr'and  yellow 
fog,  and  went  off  into  a  disquisition  about  optics,  mediums  reflec- 
tions, refractions,  and  all  sorts  of  scientific  terms.  ' 

Well  I  don't  like  hard  words,  when  you  crack  them,  which  is 
plaguy  tough  work,  you  have  to  pick  the  kernel  out  with  a  cam- 
bric needle,  and  unless  it's  soaked  in  wine,  like  che  heart  of  a  hick- 
ory nut  IS,  It  don't  taste  nice  and  don't  pay  you  for  the  trouble, 
bo  to  change  the  subject,  "  Doctor,"  sais  I,  »  how  long  is  this  ever- 
lasting  mullatto  lopkin'  fog  a-goin'  to  last,  for  it  ain't  white  and  it 
am  t  black,  but  kind  of  betwixt  and  between." 

Sais  he,  and  he  stopped  and  listened  a  moment,  "it  Will  be  gone 

"J      vrrvire    t^  VJUVJii.    lU-nigjiC. 

"  What  makes  you  think  so  ?"  said  I. 

"  Do  you  hear  that?"  said  he. 

"  Yes,"  sais  I,  "I  do ;  it's  children  a  playin  and  a  chatterin'  in 


•  >■ 


eio 


THE  WORLD  BEFORE  THE  FLOOD. 


li 


French.  Now  it's  nateral  they  should  talk  French,  seein'  their 
parents  do.  Fathers  tote  their  young  ones  about,  and  mothers 
scold  them  in  it — therefore  they  call  it  the  mother  tongue,  for  old 
wives  are  like  old  hosses,  they  are  all  tongue,  and  when  their  teeth 
is  gone,  that  unruly  member  grows  thicker  and  bigger,  for  it  has  a 
larger  bed  to  stretch  out  in — not  that  it  ever  sleeps  much,  but  it 
has  a  larger  sphere  of  action — do  you  take  ?  I  don't  know  whether 
you  have  had  this  feeling  of  surprise,  but  I  have,  to  hear  those 
little  imps  talk  French,  when  to  save  your  soul,  you  can't  jabber  it 
that  way  yourself.  In  course  of  nature  they  must  talk  that  lingo, 
for  they  are  quilted  in  French — kissed  in  Fren  )h — fed  in  French— 
and  put  to  bed  in  French — and  told  to  pray  to  the  Virgin  in  French  • 
for  that's  the  language  she  loves  best.  She  knows  a  great  many 
languages,  but  she  can't  speak  English  since  Henry  the  Eighth's 
time,  when  she  said  to  him,  "you  be  fiddled,"  which  meant,  the 
Scotch  should  come  with  their  fiddles,  and  rule  England. 

"Still  somehow  I  feel  strange,  when  these  little  critters  address 
me  in  it,  or  when  women  use  it  to  me  (tho'  I  don't  mind  so  much, 
for  there  are  certain  frc  ^aiason  signs  the  fair  sex  understand  all 
over  the  world,)  but  the  men  puzzle  me  like  Old  Scratch,  and  I 
often  say  to  myself,  what  a  pity  it  is  the  critters  can't  speak 
Er.glish.  I  never  pity  myself  for  not  being  able  to  jabber  French, 
but  I  blush  for  their  ignorance.  However,  all  this  is  neither  here 
nor  there.  Now,  Doctor,  how  can  you  tell  this  fog  is  booked  for 
the  twelve  o'clock  train.     Is  there  a  Bradshaw  for  weather  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  there  is,  do  you  hear  that  1" 

"  I  don't  hear  nothing,"  sais  1,  "  but  two  Frenchmen  ashore  a 
jawing  like  mad.  One  darsent,  and  tother  is  afraid  to  fight,  so 
they  are  taking  it  out  in  gab— they  ain't  worth  listening  to.  IIow 
do  they  tell  you  the  W(^ather  1" 

"  Oh,"  said  he,  "  it  aint  them !  Do  you  hear  the  falls  at  my 
lake  ?  the  west  wind  brings  that  to  us.  When  I  am  there  and  the 
rote  is  on  the  beach,  it  tells  me  it  is  the  voice  of  the  south  wind 
giving  notice  of  rain.  All  nature  warns  me.  The  swallow,  the 
pig,  the  goose,  the  fire  on  the  h&arth,  the  soot  in  the  fl'-  ab  smoke 
of  the  chimney,  the  rising  and  setting  sun,  the  white  frost,  the  stars 
—all,  all  tell  me." 

"  Yes,"  sais  I,  "  when  I  am  to  home,  I  know  all  them  signs." 

"  The  spider  too  is  my  guide,  and  the  ant.  But  the  little  pirn- 
pernel,  the  poor  man's  weather  glass,  and  the  convolvulus  are 
truer  than  any  barometer,  and  a  glass  of  water  never  lies." 

"  Ah,  Doctor,"  said  I,  "  you  and  I  read  and  study  the  same  book. 
I  don't  mean  to  assert  we  are  as  Sorrow  says,  nateral  children,  but 
we  are  both  children  of  nature,  and  honor  our  parents.  1  agree 
with  you  about  thp  fog,  but  1  wanted  to  see  if  you  could  answer 
•gnals  with  me.     I  am  so  glad  you  have  come  on  board     You 


THE     WORLD     BEFORE    THB    FLOOD. 


211 


want  amusement,  I  want  instruction.  I  will  cwap  stories  with  you, 
for  bits  of  your  wisdom,  and  as  you  won't  take  boot,  I  shall  be  a 
great  gainer." 

After  a  good  deal  of  such  conversation,  we  went  below,  and  in 
due  season  turned  in,  in  a  place  where  true  comfort  consists  in  ob- 
livion. The  morning,  as  the  Doctor  predicted,  was  clear,  the  fog 
was  gone,  and  the  little  French  village  lay  before  us  in  all  the 
beauty  of  ugliness.  The  houses  were  small,  unpainted,  and  unin- 
viting. Fish  flakes  were  spread  on  the  beach,  and  the  women  were 
busy  in  turning  the  cod  upon  them.  Boats  were  leaving  the  shore 
for  the  fishing-ground.  Each  of  these  was  manned  by  two  or  three 
or  four  hands,  who  made  as  much  noise  as  if  they  were  getting  a 
vessel  under  weigh,  and  were  severally  giving  orders  to  each  other 
with  a  rapidity  of  utterance,  that  no  people  but  Frenchmen  are 
capable  of. 

"  Every  nation,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  has  its  peculiarity,  but  the 
French  Acadians  excel  all  others  in  their  adherence  to  their  owa 
ways ;  and  in  this  particular,  the  Chesencookers  surpass  even  their 
owr.  countrymen.  The  men  all  dress  alike,  and  the  women  all 
dress  alike,  as  you  Avill  presently  see,  and  always  have  done  so 
within  the  memory  of  man.  A  round,  short  jacket  which  scarcely 
covers  the  waistcoat,  trowsers  that  seldom  reach  below  the  an\le- 
joint,  and  yarn  stockings,  all  four  being  blue,  and  manufactured  at 
home,  and  apparently  dyed  in  the  same  tub,  with  moccasins  for 
the  feet,  and  a  round  fur  or  cloth  cap  to  cover  the  head,  constitute 
the  uniform  and  unvaried  dress  of  the  men.  The  attire  of  the 
wome: '  is  equally  simple.  The  short  gown  which  reaches  to  the 
hip,  and  the  petticoat  which  serves  for  a  skirt,  both  made  of  a  coarse 
domestic  cloth,  having  perpendicular  blue  and  white  stripes,  consti- 
tute the  difference  of  dress  that  marks  the  distinction  of  the  sexes, 
if  we  except  a  handkerchief  thrown  over  the  head,  and  tied  under 
the  chin,  for  the  blue  stockings  and  the  moccasins  are  common  to 
both,  males  and  fenales. 

There  has  been  no  innovation  for  a  century  in  these  particulars, 
unless  it  be  that  a  hat  has  found  its  way  into  Chesencook,  not  that 
such  a  stove-pipe  looking  thing  as  that,  has  any  beauty  in  it ;  but 
the  boys  of  Halifax  are  net  to  be  despised,  if  a  hat  is,  and  even  an 
ourang-outrang  if  he  ventured  to  walk  about  the  streets  would  have 
to  submit  to  wear  one.  But  the  case  is  different  wit  a  women,  es- 
pecially modest,  discreet,  unobtrusive  wonien,  like  those  of  tho 
'long  shore  French.'  They  are  stared  at  because  they  dress  like 
those  in  the  world  before  the  flood,  but  it's  an  even  chance  if  the 


J- 


1„ 


rere  nun  so  iiuridoOuic  ;  auci  wi"ia.t  pretty  gi* 


can  find  it  in  her  heart  to  be  very  angry  at  attracting  attention  1 
Yes,  their  simple  manners,  their  innocence  and  their  sex  aie  their 
protection.     But  no  cap,  bonnet,  or  ribbon ;  velvet,  m  .slin,  or  lac^ 


iv '  •'-^TfT»~  •■  •""  "•- i  r  iiniiHtniniM 


212 


THE  WOBI,D  BEFORE  THE  FLOOD. 


was  ever  seen  at  Chesencook.  Whether  this  neglect  of  finery  (the 
lOve  of  which  is  so  natural  to  their  countrywomen  in  Europe  )  arises 
from  a  deep-rooted  veneration  for  the  ways  of  their  predecessors 
or  trom  the  sage  counsel  of  their  spiritual  instructors,  who  desire 
to  keep  them  from  the  contamination  of  the  heretical  world  around 
tfieni,  or  from  the  conviction  that 


f  111  ml 


IS 


I    ,' 


"  The  adorning  thee  with  so  much  art 
Is  but  a  barbarous  skill, 
'Tis  like  the  barbing  of  a  dart, 
Too  apt  before  to  kill." 

I  know  not,  but  such  is  the  .fact  nevertheless,  and  you  ought  to 
record  it,  as  an  instance  in  which  they  have  shown  their  superiority 
to  this  universal  weakness.  Still  both  men  and  women  are  decent!  v 
and  comfortably  clad.  Thereis  no  such  thing  as  a  ragged  Acadian 
and  I  never  yet  saw  one  begging  his  bread.  Some  people  are  dk- 
tinjuishea  for  their  industry,  others  for  their  idleness,  some  for 
their  ingenuity,  and  others  for  their  patience,  but  the  great 
characteristic  of  an  Arcadian  is  talk,  and  his  talk  is  from  its  novelty 
amusing  and  instructive  even  in  its  nonsense. 

These  people  live  close  to  the  banks  where  cod  are  found  and 
but  .ittle  time  is  required  in  proceeding  to  the  scene  of  their  labor  • 
thererore  there  is  no  necessity  for  being  in  a  hurry,  and  there  ig 
lots  of  time  for  palaver.  Every  boat  has  an  oracle  in  it,  who 
speaks  with  an  air  of  authority.  He  is  a  great  talker,  and  a  great 
smoker,  and  he  chats  so  skilfully,  that  he  envoys  his  pipe  at  the 
same  tin.e,  and  manages  it  so  as  not  to  interrupt  his  jabberiiiff 
He  can  smoke,  talk,  and  row  at  once.  He  don't  smoke  fast,  for 
that  puts  his  pipe  out  by  consuming  his  tobacco  j  nor  row  fast,  for 
It  latigues  him. 

"Exactly,"  sais  I;  "but  the  t.  igue,  I  suppose,  having,  like  a 
clock,  a  locomotive  power  of  its  cvn,  goes  like  one  of  my  wooden 
ones,  for  twenty-four  hours  without  ceasing,  and  like  one  of  them 
also,  when  it  s  e'en  amost  worn  out  and  up  in  years,  goes  at  the 
rate  of  one  hundred  minutes  to  the  hour,  strikes  without  counting 
the  number,  and  gives  good  measure,  banging  away  often  twenty 
times  at  one  o'clock."  ^    o        j  j 

Every  boat  now  ste^^red  for  the  "Black  Hawk,"  and  the  oracle 
stopped  talking  i^rench,  to  practise  English.  "How  you  do 
Sare?  how  you  do  your  wife?"  said  Ltwis  Le  Blanc,  address! 
nig  me.  ' 

"I  have  no  wife." 

"No  wife,  torn  pee '<  Who  turn  your  fish  for  you,  den?" 
Whereat  they  all  laugh,  and  all  talk  French  again.  And  the 
oracle  says,  "  he  takes  his  own  eggs  to  market,  den  ?"    He  don't 


THK     WOBLD    BEFORE    THE    FLOOD. 


2U 


eness,  some  for 


laugh  it  that,  for  wits  never  laugh  at  their  cwr  jokes :  but  the  rest 
enicker  till  they  scream. 

"  What  wind  are  we  going  to  have,  Lewis?" 

Oracle  stands  up,  carefully  surveys  the  sky,  and  notices  all  the 
signs,  and  then  looks  wise,  and  answers  in  a  way  that  there  can  be 
ro  mistake  «  Now  you  see,  Sare,  if  de  wind  blow  off  de  shore, 
den  It  will  be  wej^t  wind  ;  if  it  blow  from  de  sea,  den  it  will  be 
east  wind;  and  if  ;t  blow  down  coast,"  pointing  to  each  quarter 
With  his  hand,  like  a  weather-cock,  »den  it  will  sartain  be  sout; 
and  up  de  coast,  den  you  will  be  sartain  it  will  come  from  de  nort! 
I  never  knew  dat  sign  fail."  And  he  takes  his  pipe  from  his 
mouth,  knocks  some  ashes  out  of  it  and  spits  in  the  water,  as  much 
as  to  say,  now  1  am  ready  to  swear  to  that.  And  well  he  ma  . 
fur  it  amounts  to  this,  that  the  wind  will  blow  from  any  quarter  (* 
comes  from.  Ihe  other  three  all  regard  him  with  as  much  respect, 
as  if  he  was  clerk  of  the  weather.  ^      ' 

"Interesting  people  these.  Doctor,"  said  I,  '« aint  they  ?  It's  the 
world  before  the  flood.  I  wonder  if  they  know  how  to  trade? 
Barter  was  the  primitive  traffick.  Corn  M-as  given  for  oil,  and  fish 
for  honey,  and  sheep  and  goats  for  oxen  and  horses,  and  so  on. 
Ihere  is  a  good  deal  of  trickery  in  barter,  too,  for  necessity  has 
no  laws  Ihe  value  of  money  we  knov ,  and  a  thing  is  worth  what 
It  will  fetch  m  cash;  but  swapping  is  a  different  matter.  It's  a 
horse  of  a  different  color." 

«  You  will  find,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  the  men  (I  except  the  other 
sex  always)  are  as  acute  as  you  are  at  a  bargain.  You  are  more 
like  to  be  bitten  than  to  bite,  if  you  try  that  game  with  them." 

,  ,  ^?.V''  ^""^^^^  ^^'^  I'  "I  sell  that  old  coon  as  easy  as 
a  clock.  What  I  a  Chesencooker  a  match  for  a  Yankee  !  Cornel 
like  that;  that  is  good.     Here  goes  for  a  trial,  at  any  rate." 

*  Mounseer,"  sais  I,  "  have  you  any  wood  to  sell  ?" 

We  didn't  need  no  wood ;  but  it  don't  do  to  begin  to  ask  for 
what  you  want,  or  you  can't  do  nothen. 

"  Yes,"  said  he. 

"  What's  the  price,"  said  I,  » cash  down  on  the  nail?"  for  I  knew 
the  critter  would  see  "the  poinr  of  coming  down  with  the  blunt. 
It  s  ten  dollars  and  a  half,"  said  he,  "  a  cord  at  Halifax,  and  it 
don  t  cost  nothen  to  carry  it  there,  for  I  have  my  own  shallop— but 
1  will  sell  It  for  ten  dollars  to  oblige  you."  That  was  just  seven 
dollars  more  than  it  was  worth. 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  that's  not  high,  only  cash  is  scarce.  If  yom 
wi     take  macarel  in  pay  at  six  dollars  a  barrel,  (which  was  two 

dollars  morA   than     it-a    irn1<i/^  \    .>>.»^„    —.,.     ~..',„Ui.  ■  i-  -  t  /-^       i  » 

Bell  me  twenty  cord  ?  " 
"  Yes,  may  be  twenty-five." 
"  And  the  macarel  ? "  said  I. 


mrwr-' 


214 


THE  WOBLD  BEFOEE  THE  FLOOD. 


"  Oh,"  said  he,  "  macarel  is  only  worth  three  dollars  and  a  half 
at  Halifax.  I  can't  sell  mine  even  at  that.  I  have  sixty  barrels, 
number  one,  for  sale." 

"  If  you  will  promise  me  to  let  me  have  all  the  wood  I  want, 
more  or  less,"  sais  I,  '*  even  if  it  is  ever  so  little ;  or  as  much, 
thirty  cords,  at  ten  dollars,  real  rock  maple  and  yellow  birch,  then 
I  will  take  all  your  macarel  at  three  and  a  half  dollars,  money 
down." 

'*  Say  four,"  raid  he. 

"  No,"  sais  1. 

"  You  say  you  can't  git  but  three  and  a  half  at  Halifax,  and  I 
won't  beat  you  down,  nor  advance  myself  one  cent.  But  mind,  if 
1  oblige  you  by  buying  all  your  macarel,  you  must  oblige  me  by 
letting  me  have  all  the  wood  I  want." 

"  Done,"  said  he  ;  so  we  warped  into  the  wharf,  took  the  fish  on 
board,  and  I  paid  him  the  money,  and  cleared  fifteen  pounds  by  the 
operation. 

"  Now,"  sais  I,  "  where  is  the  wood  1 " 

"  All  this  is  mine,"  said  he,  pointing  to  a  pile  contahiiug  about 
fifty  cords. 

"  Can  I  have  it  all,"  said  I,  "  if  I  want  it  1" 

He  took  off  his  hat  and  scratched  his  head  ;  scratching  helps  a 
man  to  think  amazingly.  He  thought  he  had  better  ask  a  little 
more  than  ten  dollars,  t  <  I  appeared  to  be  so  ready  to  buy  at  any 
price.     So  he  said, 

"  Yes,  you  may  have  it  all  at  ten  and  a  half  dollars." 

"  I  thought  you  said,  I  might  have  what  I  wanted  at  ten." 

"  Well,  I  have  changed  my  mind,"  said  he  ;  "  it  is  too  low." 

"  And  so  have  I,"  sais  I ;  "  I  won't  trade  with  a  man  that  acts 
that  way,"  and  I  went  on  board,  and  the  men  cast  off  and  began  to 
warp  the  vessel  again  up  to  her  anchor. 

Lewis  took  off  his  cap  and  began  scratching  his  head  again,  he 
had  over-reached  himself.  Expecting  an  immense  profit  on  his 
wood;  he  had  sold  his  fish  very  low ;  he  saw  I  was  in  earnest,  and 
jumped  on  board. 

"  Capitaine,  you  will  have  him  at  ten,  so  much  as  you  want  of 
Him. 

"  Well,  measure  me  off  half  a  cord." 

"  What !"  said  he,  opening  both  eyes  to  their  full  extent. 

"  Measure  me  off  half  a  cord." 

"  Didn't  you  say  you  wanted  twenty  or  thirty  cord  1" 

"  No,"  I  said ;  "  I  must  have  that  much  if  I  wanted  it,  but  I 

Uli  u   Witiib  i!j  J    ic  IS  uiiij    uOii-ii  tmcc  uuiiais,  n,ii\j.  juu  nave  ita.\j.  tnv 

modesty  to  ask  ten,  and  then  ten  and  a  half,  but  I  will  take  half  a 
cord  to  please  you  ;  so  measure  it  off." 

He  stormed,  and  raved,  and  swore,  and  threw  his  cap  down  on 


THE    WORLD     BEFORE    THE     FLOOD. 


215 


as  vou  want  of 


the  deck  and  jumped  on  it,  and  stretched  out  his  arm  as  if  he  was 
going  to  fight,  and  stretched  out  his  wi>zened  face  as  if  il  made 
halloing  easier,  and  foamed  at  the  mouth  like  a  hoss  that  has  eat 
lobelia  in  his  hay. 

"  Be  gar,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  sue  you  before  the  common  scoun 
drels  (council)  at  Halifax ;  I  '^hall  take  it  before  the  8j>erm  (supreme) 
court,  and  trj/  it  ^ut." 

"  How  much  He  will  you  get,"  sais  I,  "by  trM  me  out,  do  you 
think  ?"  •' 

"Never  mind,"  said  I,  in  a  loucl  voice,  and  'ooking  over  him  at 
the  mate,  and  pretending  to  answer  him.  "Never  mind  if  he 
won't  go  on  shore,  he  is  welcome  to  stay,  and  we  will  land  him 
on  the  Isle  of  Sable,  and  catch  a  wild  boss  for  him  to  rido  home 


on. 


"  llie  hint  was  electrical ;  he  picked  up  his  cap  and  ran  aft,  and 
with  one  desperate  leap  reached  the  wharf  in  safety,  when  he 
turned  and  danced  as  before  with  rage,  and  his  last  audible  words 
were,  *  Be  gar,  I  shall  go  to  the  sperm  court  and  try  it  out.' " 

"  In  the  world  before  the  flood,  you  see,  Doctor,"  said  I,  "  they 
knew  how  to  cheat  as  well  as  the  present  race  do ;  the  only  im- 
provement  this  fellow  has  made  on  the  antediluvian  race  is,  he  can 
take  himself  in  as  well  as  others." 

"  I  have  often  thought,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  that  in  our  dealings 
in  life,  and  particularly  in  trading,  a  difficult  question  must  often 
arise  whether  a  thing,  notwithstanding  the  world  sanctions  it,  is 
lawful  and  right.     Now  what  is  your  idea  of  smuggling  ?" 

"  I  never  smuggled,"  said  I ;  "  I  have  sometimes  imported  goods 
and  didn't  pay  the  duties  ;  not  that  I  wanted  to  smuggle,  but  be- 
cause I  hadn't  time  to  go  to  the  office.  It's  a  good  deal  of  trouble 
to  go  to  a  custom-house.  When  you  get  there,  jc^.  are  sure  to  be 
delayed,  and  half  the  time  to  git  saree.  It  costs  a  good  deal ;  no 
one  thanks  you,  and  nobody  defrays  cab-hire,  and  makes  up  f:>r 
lost  time,  temper,  and  patience  to  you — it  don't  pay  in  a  general 
r/ay ;  sometimes  it  will ;  for  instance,  when  I  left  the  embassy,  I 
made  thirty  thousand  pounds  of  your  money  by  one  operation. 
Lead  was  scarce  in  our  market,  and  very  high,  and  the  duty  was 
one-third  of  the  prime  cost,  as  a  protection  to  the  native  article. 
So  what  does  I  do  but  go  to  old  Galena,  one  of  the  greatest  dealers 
in  the  lead-trade  in  Great  Britain,  and  ascertained  the  wholesale 
price. 

"  Sais  I,  « I  want  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  worth  of  lead.' 
"  '  That  is  an  immense  order,'  said  he,  '  Mr.  Slick.     There  is  no 


t»J  xw  t-    111     LliC 


}rlu  that  can  absorb  so  much  at  once.' 


■  The  loss  will  be  mine,'  said  I.     '  What  deductions  will  you 
make  if  I  take  it  rll  from  your  house  V 
"  Well,  he  came  down  handsome,  and  did  the  thing  genteel. 


S16 


THE     WORLD     fiSFOBE    THE    FLOOD. 


;  jiii 


S 


■HI  lii 

ijif  iiiF 


!  Hi 


m\'\m 


"  *  Now,'  sais  I,  '  wiil  you  let  one  of  your  people  go  to  my  call 
and  bring  a  mould  I  have  there  V 

•'  Well,  it  was  done. 

"  '  There,'  said  I,  '  is  a  largo  bust  of  Washington.  Every  citizen 
of  the  United  States  ought  to  have  one,  if  he  has  a  d'lst  of  patriot- 
isrv  in  him.     I  must  have  the  lead  cast  into  rough  bu3t3  like  that.' 

"  '  Hollow,'  said  he,  'of  jourso.' 

" '  No,  no,'  sais  I,  '  b^  no  manner  of  means ;  the  heavier  ^nd 
solider  the  better.' 

"  *  But,'  said  Galena,  '  Mr.  Slick,  excuse  me,  though  it  is  against 
my  own  interest,  I  cannot  but  suggest  you  might  find  a  cheaper 
rr"\terial,  and  one  more  suitable  to  your  very  iaudable  object.' 

"  '  Not  at  all,'  said  I ;  '  lead  is  the  very  identical  thing.  If  a 
man  don't  like  the  statue  and  its  price,  and  it's  like  as  not  he  won't, 
he  will  like  the  lead.  There  is  no  duty  on  statuary,  but  there  is 
more  tl.an  thirty  per  cent,  on  lead.  The  duty  alone  is  a  fortune, 
of  not  less  than  thirty  thousand  pounds,  after  all  expenses  are 
paid.' 

" '  Well,  pow,'  said  he,  throwing  back  his  head  and  laughing, 
*  thac  is  the  most  ingenious  device  to  evade  duties  I  ever  heard  of.' 

^^  I  immediately  gave  orders  to  my  agents  at  Liverpool  to  send 
so  mr  ly  tons  of  Washington  to  every  port  and  place  on  the  sea- 
board of  the  United  3;;ates,  except  New  York,  but  not  too  many 
to  a.  y  one  town ;  and  then  I  took  passage  in  a  steamer,  and 
ordered  all  my  agents  tc  close  the  consignment  immediately,  and 
let  the  lead  hero  change  hands.  It  was  generally  allowed  to  be  the 
handsomest  operation  ever  performed  in  our  country.  Connecticut 
offered  to  aend  me  to  Congress  fur  it;  the  folks  felt  so  proud 
of  me. 

"But  I  don't  call  that  smugglin'.  It  is  a  skilful  reading  of  a 
revenue  law.  My  idea  of  smugglin'  is,  there  is  the  duty  and  there 
is  the  penalty ;  pay  one  and  escape  the  other  if  y  )u  like  j  if  not, 
run  your  chance  of  the  penalty.  If  the  state  wants  L-evenue,  let  it 
collect  its  dues.  If  T  \va,v  c  my  debts  got  in,  I  attend  to  drummin' 
them  up  together  myKc'i;  ^  >t  goverrment  do  the  same.  There 
isn't  p  bit  of  harm  >!'.  i»)TiUj, .,lin'.  I  don't  like  a  law  restraining 
liberty.  Let  them  th;'t  impose  shackies,  look  to  the  bolts ;  that's 
my  idea." 

"  That  argument  won't  hold  water,  Slick,"  said  the  Doctor. 

«  Why  ?" 

"  Because  it  is  as  fi!\  of  holes  as  a  cullender." 

"  How  1" 

"  The  obligation  between  a  government  and  a  people  is  recip- 
rocal. To  protect  on  the  one  hand,  and  to  support  on  the  otner. 
Taxes  are  imposed,  first,  for  the  maintenance  of  the  governn-.ent, 
and  secondly,  for  such  other  objects  as  are  deemed  necessary  or 


THE     WORLD     B  L  iT  O  R  E     THE     FLOOD. 


217 


he  heavier  ^nd 


ry,  but  there  is 


expedient,  .he  moment  good.^  are  imporf*^  which  are  subject  to 
such  exactions,  the  amount  of  the  tax  is  a  debt  due  to  the  state 
the  evasion  or  denial  of  which  is  a  fraud.  The  penalty  is  not  an 
alternative  at  your  option  ;  it  i.s  h  punishn.ent,  and  that  always 
•  pre-supposes  an  offence.  There  is  no  difference  between  defraudinff 
the  state  or  an  individual.  Corporeality  or  incorporeality  has  no- 
thing  to  do  with  the  matter."  j    »    uw 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "Domiiic  Doctor,  that  doctrine  of  implicit  obe- 
dience  to  the  government  won't  hold  water  neither;  otherwise  ii 
you  had  lived  m  «.romwelI'8  time,  you  would  have  to  have  assisted 
in  cutting  the  king's  head  off,  or  fight  in  an  unjust  war,  or  a  thou., 
and  other  wicked  but  legal  things.  I  believe  ever  .  -h  must  stand 
on  Its  own  bottom ;  general  rules  won't  do.  Take  ea  h  separate 
and  judge  of  it  by  itseb."  ^ 

"Exactly,"  sais  the  Doctor;  « try  that  in  law  and  see  how  it 
woud  work.     No  tw.  cases  would  be  decided  alike;  youVi  be 

adrift  at  once,  and  a  drifting  ship  soon  touches  bottom.  No  that 
won  t  hold  water.  Stick  to  general  principles,  and  if  a  thing  is  iji 
exception  to  the  rule,  put  it  in  Schedule  A  or  B,  and  you  know 
where  to  ,^ook  font.  General  ri.'es  are  fixed  principles.  But  vou 
are  only  talking  for  talk  sake;  I  know  you  are.  r)o  you  think 
now  t..at  merchant  did  right  to  aid  you  in  evading  the  duty  on 
)'our  leaden  Washingtons  ? "  a  j 

"What  the  plague  had  he  to  do  with  our  revenue  laws?  They 
don  t  bind  hun,"  sais  I.  ^ 

"No,"  said  the  Doctor,  "but  there  is  a  higher  law  than  the 
ctatutes  of  the  States  or  of  England  either,  and  that  is  the  moral 
law.  In  a.mng  you,  he  made  the  greatest  sale  of  lead  ever  effected 
a  once  m  Lngland;  the  profit  on  that  was  his  sVare  of  the  smu« 
gling  But  you  are  only  drawing  me  out  to  see  what  I  am  made 
ot.  You  are  an  awful  man  fpr  a  bam.  There  goes  old  Lewis  to  his 
hshing  boat, '  sais  he.  "  Look  at  him  shaking  his  fist  at  you.  Do 
you  hoar  uim  jabbering  away  about  irt/inff  it  out  in  the  'sperm 
court '  ^ 

"  I'll  make  him  draw  his  fist  in,  I  know,"  sais  L  So  I  seized  my 
rifle,  and  stepped  behind  the  mast,  so  that  he  could  not  see  me ; 
and  as  a  large  gray  gull  was  passing  over  his  boat,  high  up  in  -he 
air,  1  fired  and  clown  it  fell  on  the  old  coon's  head  so  heavily  and 
so  suddenly,  he  thought  he  was  shot,  and  he  and  the  others  set  up 
a  ye.l  of  fnght  and  terror  that  made  everybody  on  board  of  the 
little  fleec  of  coasters  that  were  anchored  round  us,  combine  m 
three  of  the  heartiest,  merriest,  and  loudest  cheers  I  ever  heard. 

"  v'/i.-ij  fi-...f  ^..t.  :„  iU_    .  ,      ^     ..  -         ..        -     _  , 


'  Try  that  out,  in  thp.  xnpvny  r-nnrt-    17/Mi 
^r  .  ■---  -r J  J"" 


rviH  u..n  c. >5 . 

--•vt    l-'UIi-lIUi;,         3U13    1. 


guess  there  i«  more  ile  to  be  found  in  thnt  fishy  gentleman  ^nan  in 
me.  •'  Well,"  saia  I,  »  Doctor,  to  get  back  to  what  v  e  was  a  talk- 
ing  ot.     it  s  a  tight  squeeze  sometimes  to  scrouge  between  a  lie 


SSBi 


mmmifimmmmji^^mm 


"   t 


218 


TH3  WOULD  BEFORE  THE  FLOOD. 


and  a  truth  in  business,  ain't  it  ]  The  passage  is  so  narrow,  if  you 
don't  take  care  it  will  rip  your  trcwser  buttons  off  in  spite  of  you. 
Fortunately  I  am  thin  and  can  do  it  like  an  eel,  squirmey  ^shion; 
but  a  stout,  awkward  fellow  is  most  sure  to  be  catched. 

"  I  shall  never  forget  a  rise  I  once  took  out  of  a  set  of  jockies  at 
Albany.  I  had  an  everlastin'  fiist  Naragansct  pacer  once  to  Slick- 
ville,  one  that  I  had  purchased  in  Mandarin's  place.  1  v/as  con- 
slderable  proud  of  him,  I  do  assure  you,  for  he  took  the  rag  off  the 
bush  in  great  style.  Well,  our  stable-help,  Pat  Monoghan,  (him  I 
used  to  call  Mr.  Monoghan)  would  stuff  him  with  fresh  clover 
without  me  knowing  it,  and  as  sure  as  rates,  I  broke  his  wind  in 
driving  him  too  fast.  It  gave  him  the  heaves,  that  is,  it  made  his 
flanks  heave  like  a  blacksmith's  bt^Uows.  Wo  call  it  '  heaves,' 
Britishers  call  it  'broken  wind.'  Well,  there  is  no  cure  for  it, 
though  some  folks  tell  you  a  hornet's  nest  cut  up  fine,  and  put  it\ 
their  meal  will  do  it,  and  ethers  say  sift  the  oats  clean,  and  givo 
them  juniper  berries  in  it,  and  that  will  do  it,  or  ground  ginger,  oi 
tar,  or  what  not;  but  these  are  all  quackeries.  You  can't  cure  it, 
for  it's  a  ruption  of  an  air  vessel,  and  you  can't  get  at  it  to  sew  it 
up.  But  yoii  can  fix  it  up  by  diet  and  care,  and  proper  usago,  so 
that  you  can  deceive  even  an  old  hand,  providin'  you  don't  let  hira 
ride  or  drive  the  beast  too  fast. 

"  Well,  I  doctored  and  worked  with  him  so,  the  most  that  coiilcl 
be  perceived  was  a  slight  cold,  nothen'  to  mind,  much  less  frighten 
you.  And  when  I  got  him  up  to  the  notch,  I  advertised  him  for 
sale,  ns  belonging  to  a  person  going  down  east,  who  only  parted 
with  him  because  ho  thought  him  too  heavry  for  a  man  who  never 
travelled  less  than  a  mile  ir  two  minutes  and  twenty  seconds. 
Well,  he  was  sold  ?'  auction,  and  knocked  down  to  Rip  Van  Dam, 
the  Attorney-General,  for  five  hundred  dollars;  and  the  owner  put 
a  saddle  and  bridle  on  him,  and  took  a  bet  of  tv»'o  hundred  dollai^ 
v/ith  me,  he  could  do  a  mile  in  two  minutes,  fifty  seconds.  Ho 
didn't  know  me  from  Adam  parsonally,  at  the  time,  but  he  hud 
heard  of  me,  and  bought  the  horse,  because  it  was  said  Sam  Slick 
owned  him. 

"  Well,  he  started  off,  and  lost  his  bet ;  for  when  he  got  near  the 
■winnin'  post  the  horse  choked,  fell,  and  pitched  the  rider  off  half- 
way to  Tro},  and  nearly  died  himself,  '''he  umpire  handed  me 
the  money,  and  I  dug  out  for  the  steam-boat  intcndin'  to  inill  foot 
for  home.  Just  as  1  reached  the  wharf,  I  heard  my  name  called 
out,  but  I  didn't  let  on  I  noticed  it,  and  walked  a-!iead.  Presently; 
Van  Dam  seized  me  by  the  shoulder,  quite  out  of  breath,  puffin' 
and  blowin'  like  a  porpoise. 

"  '  Mr.  Slick,'  said  ho. 

"  '  Yes,'  sais  T,  '  what's  loft  of  me ;  but  good  gracious,'  sais  I, 
*you  have  got  the  '  heaves.'     I  hope  it  ain't  catchin.' 


THE     WORLD     BEFORE     THE     FLOOD. 


219 


" '  No  I  haven't,'  said  he,  '  but  your  cussed  hoss  has,  and  nearly 
broke  my  neck.  You  are  like  all  the  Connecticut  men  1  ever  see, 
a  nasty,  mean,  long-necked,  long-legged,  narrow-chested,  slab-sided! 
narrow-souled,  lantern-jawed,  Yankee  cheat.' 

" '  Well,'  sais  I,  '  that's  a  considerable  of  a  long  name  to  write 
on  the  back  of  a. letter,  ain't  it?  It  ain't  good  to  use  such  a  swad 
of  words,  it's  no  wonder  you  have  the  heaves ;  but  I'll  cure  you  ;  I 
warn't  brought  up  to  wrar.glin' ;  '  hain't  time  to  fight  you,  and 
besides,'  said  I,  'you  are  broken-winded;  but  I'll  heave  you  over 
the  A'harf  to  cool  you,  boots  and  all,  by  gravy.' 

'"  JJidn't  you  advertise,'  said  he,  '  that  the  only  reason  you  had 
to  part  with  ti.at  horse  was,  that  he  was  too  heavy  for  a  man  who 
never  travelled  slower  than  a  mile  in  two  minutes  and  twenty 
seconds.' 

"  '  Never ! '  sais  I,  '  I  never  said  such  a  word.  What  will  vou 
bet  I  did  r  ^ 

"'Fifty  dollars,' said  he. 

"  '  Done,'  said  I.  And  Vand«rbllt  (he  was  just  going  on  board 
the  steamer  at  the  time,)  '  Vanderbilt,'  sais  I,  'hold  these  stakes. 
Friend,'  sais  I,  '  I  wou't  say  you  lie,  but  you  talk  uncommonly  like 
the  way  I  do  when  I  lie.     Now  prove  it.' 

"  And  he  pulled  out  one  of  my  printed  advertisements,  and  said 
'  read  that.'  ' 

"  Well,  I  read  it.     '  It  ain't  there,'  said  I. 

"  '  Ain't  it  ?  '  said  he.     '  I  leave  it  to  Vanderbilt.' 

"  '  Mr.  Slick,'  said  he,  '  you  have  lost— it  is  here.' 

'"Will  you  bet  fifty  dollars,'  said  I,  '  though  you  have  seen  it 
that  It's  there  ? ' 

" '  Yes,'  said  he,  '  I  will.' 

"  '  Dor.e,'  said  I.     '  Now  how  do  you  spell  heavy  1 ' 

"  '  He-a-v-y,'  said  he. 

"  '  Exactly,'  sais  I ;'  so  do  I.  But  this  is  spelt  heav-e>/.  I  did 
It  on  purpose.  I  scorn  to  take  a  man  in  about  a  horse,  so  i  pub- 
lished  his  defect  to  all  the  world.  I  said  he  was  too  heaveij  for  har 
[loss,  and  so  h:.  is.  lie  aint  worth  fifty  dollars— I  wouldn't  take 
hnn  as  ;«  gift— ho  aint  worth  von  dam.' 

" '  Well,  I  did  see  that,'  said  he,  '  but  I  thought  it  was  an  error  ' 
ot  the  press,  or  that  the  owner  couldn't  spell' 

"  '  Oh  !'  sais  I,  '  don't  take  me  for  one  of  your  Dutch  boors,  I 
beg  of  you.  I  can  spell,  but  you  can't  read,  that's  all.  You  re- 
mind me,  says  I,  »  of  a  feller  in  Slickville,  when  the  six-cent  letter 
stamps  came  in  fashion.  He  licked  the  stamp  so  hard,  he  took  all 
the  gum  oflL,  and  it  wouldn't  ^fay  on,  no  how  he  could  fix  it,  so 

the  letter. 


l_  gracious,'  sais  I,    ■    "  Paid,  if  the  darned  thing  will  only^tick."     Now  if 


you  go  and 


lick  the  Stamp  etarnally  that  way,  folks  will  put  a  pin' through  it, 


'm 


'-4nMSSMM 


l'7'1ireifr^^^rim■■i^l■wlll^w^^^^a 


220 


THE  WORLD  BEFORE  THE  FLOOD. 


M 


ll 


and  the  story  wiVi  stick  to  you  for  ever  and  ever.     But  come  on 
board,  and  let's  liquor,  and  I  will  stand  treat.' 

"  I  felt  sorry  for  the  poor  critter,  and  I  told  him  ho.,  to  feed  the 
horse,  and  advised  him  to  take  him  to  Saratoga,  advertise  him,  and 
sell  him  the  san:  way  ;  and  he  did,  and  got  rid  of  him.  The  rise 
raised  his  character  as  a  lawyer  amazing.  He  was  elected  gov- 
ernor next  year. 

"Now  I  don't  call  the  lead  Washin^tons  nor  the  heavey  horse 
either  on  'em  a  case  of  cheat ;  but  I  do  think  a  man  ought  to  know 
how  to  read  a  law  and  how  to  read  an  advertisement,  don't  \  a\] 
But  come,  let  us  go  ashore,  and  see  how  the  gals  look,  for  you  have 
raised  my  curiosity." 

We  accordingly  had  the  boat  lowered ;  and  taking  Sorrow  with 
us  to  see  if  he  could  do  anything  in  the  catering  line,  the  Doctor, 
Cutlbr,  and  myself  landed  on  the  beach,  and  walked  round  the  set- 
tlement. . 

The  shore  was  covered  with  fish  flakes,  which  sent  up  an  aroma 
not  the  most  agreeable  in  the  world,  except  to  those  who  lived 
there,  and  they,  I  do  suppose,  snuff  up  the  breeze  as  if  it  was 
loaded  with  wealth,  and  smelt  of  the  Gold  coast.  But  this  was 
nothing  (although  I  don't  think  I  can  ever  cat  dum  fish  again  as 
long  as  I  live)  to  the  effluvia  arising  from  decomposed  heaps  of  sea- 
weed, which  had  been  gathered  for  manure,  and  was  in  the  act  of 
removal  to  the  fields.  No  words  can  describe  this,  and  I  leave  it  to 
your  imagination.  Squire,  to  form  an  idea  of  a  new  perfume  in 
Hastiness  that  has  never  yet  been  appreciated  but  by  an  irishman. 

I  heard  a  Paddy  once,  at  Halifax,  describe  the  wreck  of  a  car- 
riage which  had  been  dashed  to  pieces.  lie  said  there  was  not  "a 
smell  of  it  left."  Poor  follow,  he  must  have  landed  at  Chesencook, 
and  removed  one  of  those  oloriferous  h^aps,  as  Sorrow  called  them, 
and  b>  rrowed  the  metaphors  from  it,  that  there  was  not  "a  smell 
of  it  left."  On  the  beach  between  the  "  flakes"  and  the  water,  were 
smaller  heaps  of  the  garbage  of  the  cod-fish  and  mackerel,  on  which 
the  grey  and  wXvvcq,  gulls  fought,  screamed,  and  gorged  themselves, 
while  on  the  bar  were  the  remains  of  several  enormous  black  fish, 
haH'  the  size  of  whales,  which  had  been  driven  on  shore,  r.nd  hauled 
up  out  of  the  reach  of  the  waves  by  strong  ox  teams.  The  heads 
ind  livers  of  these  huge  monsters  had  been  "  tried  out  in  the  Sperm 
court"  for  ile,  and  the  putrid  remains  of  the  carcass  were  disputed 
for  by  pigs  and  crows.  The  discordant  noises  of  these  hungry 
birds  and  beasts  were  perfectly  deafening. 

On  the  right  hand  side  of  tlie  harbor,  boys  and  girls  waded  out 
on  the  flats  to  dig  clams,  and  were  assailed  on  all  sides  by  the 
screams  of  wild  fowl,  who  resented  the  invasion  of  their  territory, 
and  were  replied  to  in  tones  no  less  shrill  and  unintelligible.  On 
the  left  was  the  wreck  of  a  lu-'ge  ship,  which  had  perished  on  tha 


THE  WORLD  BEFORE  THE  FLOOD. 


221 


sr.    But  come  on 


coast,  and  left  its  ribs  and  skeleton  to  bleach  on  the  shore,  as  if  it 
had  failed  in  the  vain  attempt  to  reach  the  forest  from  which  it  had 
sprung,  and  to  repose  in  death  in  its  native  valley.  From  one  of 
its  masts,  a  long,  loose,  solitary  shroud  was  pendant,  having  at  its 
end  a  large  double  block  attached  to  it,  on  which  a  boy  was  seated, 
and  swung  backward  and  forward.  He  was  a  little,  saucy  urchin, 
of  pbout  twelve  years  of  age,  dressed  in  striped  homespun,  and 
had  on  his  head  a  red  yarn  clackmutch,  that  resembled  a  cap  of 
liberty.  He  seemed  quite  happy,  and  sung  a  verse  of  a  French 
song  with  an  air  of  conscious  pride  and  defiance  as  his  mother,  stick 
in  hand,  stood  before  him,  and  at  the  top  of  her  voice  now  threat- 
ened him  with  the  rod,  his  father,  and  the  priest — and  then  treach- 
erously coaxed  him  with  a  promise  to  take  him  to  Halifax,  where 
he  should  see  the  great  chapel,  hear  the  big  bell,  and  look  at  the 
bishop.  A  group  of  little  girls  stared  in  amazement  at  his  courage, 
but  trembled  when  they  heard  his  mother  predict  a  broken  neck — 
purgatory — and  the  devil  as  his  portion. 

The  dog  was  as  excited  as  the  boy — he  didn't  bark,  but  he  whim- 
pered, as  he  gazed  upon  him,  as  if  he  would  like  to  jump  up,  and 
be  with  him,  or  to  assure  him  he  would  cutch  him  if  he  fell,  if  he 
had  but  the  power  to  do  so. 

What  a  picture  it  was — the  huge  wreck  of  that,  that  once 
"walked  the  waters  as  a  thing  of  life" — the  merry  boy — the  anx- 
ious mother — the  trembling  sisters — the  affectionate  dog — what  bits 
of  church-yard  scenes  were  here  combined — children  playing  on 
the  tombs — the  young  and  the  old — the  merry  and  the  aching  heart 
—the  living  among  the  dead.  Far  beyond  this  were  tall  figures 
wading  in  the  water,  and  seeking  their  food  in  the  shallows  ;  cranes 
who  felt  the  impunity  thr^  the  superstition  of  the  simple  habitans 
had  extended  to  them  and  sought  their  daily  meal  in  peace. 

Above  the  beach,  and  parallel  with  it,  ran  a  main  road,  on  the 
upper  side  of  which  were  the  houses,  and  on  a  swelling  mound 
behind  them  rose  the  spire  of  the  chapel,  visible  far  off  in  the 
Atlantic,  a  sacred  signal-post  for  the  guidance  of  the  poor  coaster. 
As  soon  as  you  reach  this  street  or  road,  and  look  around  you,  you 
feel  at  once  you  are  in  a  foreign  country,  and  a  land  of  strangers. 
The  people,  their  dress,  and  their  language,  the  houses,  their  form 
and  appearance,  the  implements  of  husbandry,  their  shape  and  con- 
struction— all  that  you  hear  and  seo  is  unlike  anything  else.  It  is 
neither  above,  beyond,  or  behind  the  age.  It  is  the  world  before 
the  flood.  I  have  sketched  it  for  you,  and  I  think  without  bragging 
I  may  say  I  can  take  things  off  to  the  life.  Once  I  drawed  a  mut- 
ton chop  so  nateral,  my  dog  broke  his  teeth  in  tearing  the  panel  to 
pieces  to  get  at  it,  and  at  another  time  I  painted  a  shingle  so  like 
stone,  when  I  threw  it  into  the  water  it  sunk  right  kerlash  to  the 
bottom." 


222 


THE  WORLD  BEFORE  THE  PL00D\ 


"  Oh,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  let  me  get  away  from  here, 
1  can't  bear  the  sight  of  the  sea-coast,  and  above  all  this  offensive 
place.  Let  us  get  into  the  woods,  where  wc  can  enj.oy  ourselves. 
You  have  never  witnessed  what  I  have  lately,  and  1  trust  in  God 
you  never  will.  I  have  seen  within  this  month  two  hundred  dead 
bodies  on  a  beach,  in  every  possible  shape  of  disfiguration  and 
decomposition— mangled,  mutilated,  and  dismembered  corpses* 
male  and  female,  old  and  young,  the  prey  of  fishes,  birds,  beasts' 
and  what  is  worse,  of  human  beings.  The  wrecker  had  been  there 
— whether  he  was  of  your  country  or  mine  I  know  not,  but  I  fer- 
vently  hope,  he  belonged  to  neither.  Oh,  I  have  never  slept  sound 
since.  The  screams  of  the  birds  tenity  me,  and  yet  what  do  they 
do  but  follow  the  instincts  of  their  nature  ?  They  bptten  on  the 
dead,  and  if  they  do  feed  on  the  living,  God  has  given  them  anima- 
ted  beings  for  their  sustenance,  as  he  has  the  fowls  of  the  air,  the 
fishp.5  of  the  sea,  and  the  beasts  of  the  field  to  us,  but  they 'feed 
not  on  each  other.  Man,  man  alone  is  a  cannibal.  What  an  awful 
word  that  is." 

"  Exactly,''  sais  I,  "  for  he  is  then  below  the  canine  species — do^ 
won't  eat  dog.*  The  wrecker  lives  not  on  those  who  die,  but  on 
those  whom  he  slays.  The  pirate  has  courage  at  least  to  boast  of; 
he  risks  his  life  to  rob  the  ship,  but  the  other  attacks  the  helpless 
and  unarmed,  and  spares  neither  age  nor  sex,  in  his  thirst  for 
plunder.  I  ^on't  mean  to  say  we  are  worse  on  this  side  of  the 
Atlantic  tha  the  other.  God  forbid.  J  believe  we  are  better- 
for  the  Amei  an  people  are  a  kind,  a  feeling  and  a  humane  race! 
But  avarice  Hardens  the  heart,  and  distress  when  it  comes  in  a 
mass,  overpowers  pity  for  the  individual,  while  the  inability  to  aid 
a  multitude,  induces  a  carelessness  to  assist  any.  A  whole  com- 
munity  will  rush  to  the  rescue  of  a  drowning  man,  not  because  his 
purse  can  enrich  them  all,  that  is  too  dark  a  view  of  human  nature, 
but  because  he  is  the  sole  oV>ct  of  interest.  When  there  are  hun- 
dreds struggling  for  life,  few  of  whom  can  be  saved,  and  when 
some  wretches  are  solely  be;:t  on  booty,  the  rest  regardless  of 
duty,  rush  in  for  their  share  also,  and  the  ship  and  her  cargo 
attract  all.  When  the  wreck  is  plundered,  the  transition  to  rifling 
the  dying  and  the  dead  is  not  difficult;  and  cupidity,  when  on >e 
sharpened  by  success,  brooks  no  resistance,  for  the  remonsti-ance  of 
conscience  is  easily  silenced  where  supplication  is  not  even  heard. 
Avarice  benumbs  the  feelings,  and  when  the  heart  is  hardened,  man 
becomes  a  n.ere  beast  of  pr  ■•  Oh,  this  scene  affects  me— let  us 
move  on.  These  poor  peo^  nave  never  yet  been  suspected  of 
these  atrocities,  and  surely  they  were  not  perpeLraf.ed  in  the  world 
before  the  flood." 

*  This  homely  adage  is  far  more  expre.'ssive  than  the  Latin  one : 

"  Parcit 
Cognates  maculig,  similis  fora." — Joy. 


LOST     AT    SEA. 


22a 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


LOST   AT   SBA'. 


I  to..  'EVE,  Doctor,"  sais  I,  "  we  have  seen  all  that  is  worth  no- 
tice here  ;  let  us  go  into  one  of  their  houses,  and  ascertain  if  there 
is  anything  for  Sorrow's  larder  ;  but,  Doctor,"  sais  I,  "  let  us  first 
find  out  if  they  speak  English,  for  if  they  do,  we  must  be  careful 
what  we  say  before  them.  Very  few  of  the  old  people,  I  guess, 
know  anything  but  French ;  but  the  younger  ones,  who  frequent 
the  Halifax  market,  know  more  than  they  pretend  to  if  they  are 
like  some  other  habitants  I  saw  at  New  Orleans.  They  are  as  cun- 
ning as  foxes." 

Proceeding  to  one  of  the  largest  cottages,  we  immediately 
gained  admission.  The  door,  unlike  those  of  Nova  Scotian  houses, 
opened  outwards,  the  fastenings  being  a  simple  wooden  latch. 
The  room  into  which  we  entered  was  a  large,  dark,  dingy,  dirty 
apartment.  In  the  centre  of  it  was  a  tub  containing  some  goslins, 
resembling  yellow  balls  of  cornmeal,  rather  than  birds.  Two 
females  were  all  that  were  at  home ;  one  an  old  wrinkled  woman, 
whose  age  it  would  puzzle  a  physiognomist  to  pronounce  on,  the 
other  a  girl  about  twenty-five  years  old.  They  sat  on  opposite 
sides  of  the  fire-place,  and  both  were  clothed  alike,  in  blue-striped 
homespun,  as  previously  described. 

"  Look  at  their  moccasins,"  said  the  Doctor.  "  They  know 
much  more  about  deer-skins  than  half  the  English  settlers  do. 
Do  you  observe  they  are  made  of  carriboo,  and  not  moose  hide  ? 
The  former  contracts  with  wet,  and  the  other  distends  and  gets  out 
of  shape.  Simple  as  that  little  thing  is,  few  people  have  ever  no- 
ticed  it " 

The  girl,  had  she  been  differently  trained  and  dressed,  would 
have  been  handsome ;  but  spare  diet,  exposure  to  the  sun  and 
wind,  £>nd  field-labor  had  bronzed  her  face,  so  thaj;  it  was  difficult  to 
say  what  her  real  complexion  was.  Her  hair  was  jet-black  and 
very  luxuriant;  but  the  handkerchief  which  served  for  bonnet  and 
heud-dress  by  day,  and  for  a  cap  by  night,  hid  all  but  the  ample 
folds  in  front.  Her  teeth  were  as  ■"•'lite  as  ivory,  and  contrasted 
strangely  with  the  gipsy  color  of  her  cheeks.  The  eyes  were 
black,  soft,  and  liquid,  and  the  lashes  remarkably  long ;  but  the 
ex[.ression  of  the  face  which  was  naturally  good,  indicated,  though 
-■jot  vuy  accurately,  the  absence  of  either  thought  or  curii»slty. 

A<'  er  a  w  hile  objects  became  more  distinct  in  the  room,  as  we  grad- 
aall«-  became  accustomed  to  the  dim  light  of  the  small  windows. 
Th-^   valls  were  hung  round  with  large  hanks  of  yarn,  principally 


224 


LOST    AT    SEA 


I 


I'' 


blue  p.nd  white.     An  open  cupboard  displayed  some  plain  coarse 
cups  and  saucers,  and  the  furniture  consisted  of  two  rough  tables 
a  large  bunk,*  one  or  two  sea  chests,  and  a  few  chairs  of  simple 
workmanship ;  a  large  old-fashioned  spinning-wheel,  and  a  barrel- 
churn  stood  in  one  corner,  and  in  the  other  a  shoemaker's  bench 
while  carpenters'  tools  were  suspended  on  nails  in  such  places  as 
were  not  occupied  by  yarn.     There  was  no  ceiling  or  plnsteiinc/ 
visible  anywhere;  the  ^.oor  of  the  attic  alone  separated  that  per 
tion  of  the  house  from  the  lower  room,  and  the  joist  on  which  it 
was  laid,  was  thus  exposed  to  view,  and  supported  on  wooden 
cleats,  leather,  oars,  rudders,  together  with  some  half-dressed  pieces 
of  ash,   snow-shoes,  and   such   other   things   as   necessity  mi^ht 
require.     The  wood-work,  wherever  visible,   was  begrimed  w^th 
smoke,  and  the  floor,  though  doubtless  sometimes  swept,  appeared 
as  if  It  had  the  hydrophobia  Ivj'ien  in  its  cracks,  so  carefully  were 
soap  and  water  kept  from  it.     Hams  and  bacon  were  nowhere 
visible.     It  is  probable,  if  they  had  any,  they  were  kept  elsewhere- 
but  still  more  probable  that  they  had  found  their  way  to  market 
and  been  transmuted  into  money,  for  these  people  are  remarkably 
frugal  and  abstemious,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt,  the  Doctor  savs, 
that  there  is  not  a  house  in  the  settlement,  in  which  there  is  not  a 
supply  of  ready  money,  though  the  appearance  of  the  buildings 
and  their  nimates  would  by  no  means  justify  a  stranger  in  suppos- 
ing so.     They  are  neither  poor  nor  destitute,  but  far  better  off 
tnan  those  who  live  more  comfortably,  and  inhabit  better  houses. 

The  only  article  of  food  that  I  saw  was  a  barrel  of  eggs  most 
probably  accumulated  for  the  Halifax  market,  and  a  few  small  fish 
on  rods,  undergoing  the  process  of  smoking  in  thd  chimney  corner, 
ihe  old  woman  was  knitting  and  enjoying  her  pipe,  and  the  girl 
was  dressing  wool,  and  handling  a  pair  of  cards  with  a  rapidity  and 
ease  that  would  have  surprised  a  Lancashire  weaver.  The  moment 
she  rose  to  sweep  up  the  hearth  I  saw  she  was  an  heiress.  When 
an  Acadian  girl  has  but  her  outer  and  under  garment  on,  it  is  a 
clear  sign  if  she  marries,  there  will  be  a  heavy  demand  on  the 
fleeces  of  her  husband's  sheep ;  but  if  she  wears  four  or  more  thick 
woo  leu  petticoats,  it  is  equally  certain  her  portion  of  worldly 
goods  is  not  very  small. 

"  Doctor,"  sais  I,  "it  tante  every  darnin  needle  would  reach  her 
through  them  petticoats,  is  it  ?" 

"  Oh  !"  said  he,  "Mr.  Slick— oh  !"  and  he  rose  as  usual,  stooped 
forward,  pressed  his  hands  on  his  ribs,  and  ran  round  the  room,  if 
not^at  the  imminent  risk  of  his  life,  certainly  to  the  great  danger 
of  t..e  p-pinning'wheel  and  the  goslings.  BuLli  llie  feiiuiles  regarded 
mm  with  great  surprise,  and  not  without  some  alarm. 

•  Bunk  is  a  word  in  common  use,  and  n.eans  a  box  thut  makes  a  seat  by 
day  and  serves  for  a  bedstead  by  night. 


v  - 


LOST    AT    BEA. 


225 


ould  reach  her 


makes  a  seat  by 


"He  has  the  stomacn-ache"  sais  I,  in  French,  "he  is  subject  to 
it> 

«0h!  oh!"  said  he,  when  he  heard  that,  "oh,  Mr.  Slick,  you 
will  be  the  death  of  me."  *' 

"Have  you  got  any  peppermint?"  sais  I. 

"No,"  said  she,  tfilking  in  her  own  patois,  and  she  scraped  a 
spoonful  of  soot  from  the  chimney,  and  putting  it  into  a  cup,  was 
about  pouring  hot  water  on  it  for  an  emetic,  when  he  could  stand 
It  no  longer,  but  rushing  out  of  the  door,  put  to  flight  a  fiock 
geese  that  were  awaiting  their  usual  meal,  and  stumbling  over  a 
pig,  lell  at  full  length  on  the  ground,  nearly  crushing  to  death  the 
dog,  who  went  off  yelling  as  if  another  such  blow  would  be  the 
death  of  hiin,  and  hid  himself  under  the  barn.  The  idea  of  the 
soot  emetic  relieved  the  old  lady,  though  it  nearly  fixed  the  Doc 
tor  s  flint  for  hmi.  She  extolled  its  virtues  to  the  skies ;  she  saved 
her  daughter  s  life,  she  said,  with  it  once,  who  had  been  to  Halifax, 
and  was  taken  by  an  officer  into  a  pastrycook's  shop  and  treated. 
He  told  her  if  she  would  eat  as  much  as  she  could  at  once  he 
would  pay  for  it  all. 

Well  she  did  her  best.  She  eat  one  loaf  of  plumcake,  three 
trays  of  jellies,  a  whole  counter  of  little  tarts,  figs,  raisins  mi 
oranges  and  all  sorts  of  things  without  number.  Oh!  it  was'i 
grand  chance,  she  said,  and  the  way  she  eat  was  a  caution  to  a  cor- 
morant ;  but  at  last  she  gave  out,  she  couldn't  do  no  rxiore  The' 
foolish  officer,  the  old  lady  observed,  if  he  had  let  hsr  fetch  all  them 
things  home,  you  know  we  could  have  helped  her  to  eat  them,  and 
if  we  couldn't  have  eat  em  all  in  one  day,  surely  we  cou'd  in  one 
weik ;  but  he  didn't  think  of  that,  I  suppose.  But  her  daughter 
liked  to  have  died  ;  too  much  of  a  good  thing  is  good  for  nothing. 
\U\\,  the  soot  emetic  cured  her,  and  then  she  told  me  all  its 
effects^;  and  it's  very  surprising,  it  didn't  sound  bad  in  French,  but 
It  don  t  do  to  write  it  in  English  at  all ;  it's  the  same  thing,  but  it 
tells  better  m  French.  It  must  be  a  very  nice  language  that  for  a 
doctor,  when  it  makes  emetics  sound  so  pretty  ;  you  might  hear  of 
em  while  you  was  at  dinner  and  not  disturb  you. 

You  may  depend  it  made  the  old  lady  wake  snakes  and  walk 
chalks  talking  of  physic.  She  told  me  if  a  man  was  dying  or  a 
child  was  born  in  all  that  settlement,  she  was  always  sent  for,  and 
related  to  me  some  capital  stories ;  but  somehow  no  English  or 
Ya-ikee  woman  could  tell  them  to  a  man,  and  a  man  ean'o  tell 
them  m  English,  How  is  this  Squire,  do  you  know  ?  Ah !  here 
IS  the  Doctor,  I  will  ask  him  by-and-by. 

W  omen,  1  believe,  are  born  with  certain  natural  tastes.      Sally 

was  death  on  lace,  and  old  Aunt  Thankful  goes  the  whole  figure  for 

furs;  either  on  em  could  tell  real  thread  or  genuine «able  clear 

across  the  church.     Mother  was  born  with  a  tidy  devil,  and  had  an 

10*  J  ^  ^ 


Ml 


f 


j;ii 


226  LOST     AT     SKA 


for  cobwebs  r.nd  blue-bottle  flien;.     She 


oye  tor  cobwer;3  r.nrJ  hiue-bottJe  tlieHi.  She  waged  eternal  war  on 
cm;  while  Phocbo  Hopewell  beat  all  iiatur  for  bigotry  and  virtue 
{bijouterie  and  vertu  )  But  most  Yankee  wonricn  when  they  grow 
old,  specially  if  they  are  spinsters,  are  grand  at  compoundin  niedi- 
cines  and  presarvcs.  They  begin  by  nuisen  babies  and  end  by 
nursen  up  broughten-up  folks.  Old  Mother  Boudrot  now  was 
great  on  simples,  most  of  which  were  as  simple  and  as  harmless  as 
hei'self.  Some  of  them  was  new  to  me,  though  I  think  1  know  bet- 
ter ones  than  she  has  ;  but  what  made  her  onfallible  was,  she  had 
faith ;  she  took  a  key  out  of  her  pocket,  big  enough  for  a  jail-door, 
and  unlocking  a  huge  sailor's  chest,  selected  a  box  made,  by  the 
Indians,  of  birch  bark,  worked  w'th  porcupine  quills,  which  enclosed 
another  a  size  smaller,  and  that  a  littler  one  that  would  just  fit  into 
it,  and  so  on  until  she  came  tc  one  about  the  size  of  an  old-fashioned 
coffee-cup.  They  are  called  a  nest  of  boxes.  The  inner  one  con- 
tained a  little  horn  thing  that  looked  like  a  pill-box,  and  that  had  a 
charm  in  it. 

It  was  a  portion  of  the  nail  of  St.  Francis's  big  toe,  which  never 
failed  to  work  a  cure  on  them  who  believed  in  it.  She  said  she 
bought  it  from  a  French  prisoner,  who  had  deserted  from  Melville 
Island,  at  Halifax,  during  the  last  war.  She  gave  him  a  suit  of 
clothes,  two  shirts,  six  pair  of  stockings,  and  eight  dollars  for  it. 
The  box  was  only  a  bit  of  bone,  and  not  worthy  of  the  sacred  relic, 
but  she  couldn't  afford  to  get  a  gold  one  for  it. 

'■  Poor  St.  Croix,''  she  said,  " I  shall  never  see  him  again.  He 
had  greai,  laming  ;  he  could  both  read  and  write.  When  he  sold 
me  that  holy  thing,  he  said  : 

"Madam,  I  am  afraid  something  dreadful  will  happen  tome 
before  long,  for  selling  that  relic.  When  danger  and  trouble  come, 
where  will  be  my  charm,  then  ?" 

"  Well,  sure  enough,  two  nights  after  it  was  a  very  dark  night, 
the  dogs  barked  dreadful,  and  in  the  morning  Peter  La  Roue,  when 
he  got  up,  saw  \iu  father's  head  on  the  gate-post,  grinnin'  at  him, 
and  his  daughter  Annie's  handkerchief  tied  over  his  crown  and 
down  under  his  chin.  And  St.  Croix  was  gone,  and  Annie  was  in 
a  trance,  and  the  priest's  desk  was  gone,  with  two  hundred  pounds 
of  money  in  it,  and  old  Jodries  ram  had  a  saddle  and  bridle  c.i, 
and  was  tied  to  the  gate  of  the  widow  of  Justine  Robisheau,  that 
was  drowned  in  a  well  at  Halifax,  and  Simon  Como's  boat  put  otf 
to  sea  itself,  and  was  no  more  heard  of  Oh,  it  was  a  terrible 
night,  and  poor  St.  Croix,  people  felt  very  so^-y  for  him,  and  for 
Annie  La  Roue,  who  slept  two  whole  day3  and  nights  before  she 
woke  up.  She  had  all  her  father's  money  in  her  room  that  nigiii;- 
searched 


lay 


lay. 


never 


but  they 

Well,  I"  didn't  undeceive  her.     What's  the  use  %     Master  St. 
Croix   was  an  old  privateers- man.     He  had  drugged  La  Roue's 


LOST     AT     SEA. 


227 


ible  was,  she  had 


lie  and  bridle  zx 


daughter  to  rob  her  ot  her  money  ;  had  stolen  two  hundred  pounds 
from  the  priest,  and  Como's  boat,  and  sold  the  old  lady  a  piece  of 
his  toe-nail  for  eight  or  ten  pounds'  worth  in  all.  I  never  shake 
the  faith  of  an  ignorant  person.  Suppose  they  do  believe  too 
much,  it  is  safer  than  believipg  too  little.  You  may  make  them 
give  lip  their  creed,  but  they  ain't  always  quite  so  willing  to  take 
your's.  It  is  easier  to  make  an  infidel  than  a  convert.  So  I  jusi 
let  iblks  be,  and  suffer  them  to  skin  their  own  eels. 

After  that,  she  took  to  paying  me  compliments  on  my  French, 
and  I  complimentpd  her  on  her  good  looks,  and  she  confessed  she 
was  very  handsome  when  she  was  young,  and  all  the  mui  were  in 
love  with  her,  and  so  on.  Well,  when  I  was  about  startin',  I 
i*iquired  whftt  she  had  to  sell  in  the  eatin'  line. 

"  Eggs  j'.nd  hams,"  she  said,  "  were  all  '•he  had  in  the  house.'* 

On  examining  the  barrel  containing  the  former,  I  found  a  white- 
'ookin',  tasteless  powder  among  them. 

«  V/hat's  that,"  said  I. 

Well,  she  told  me  what  it  was  (pulverised  gypsum),  and  said, 
'  it  would  keep  them  sweet  and  fresh  for  six  months,  at  least,  and 
•jlie  didn't  know  but  a  year." 

So  I  put  my  hand  away  down  into  the  barrel  and  pulled  out 
two,  and  that  layer  she  said  was  three  months'  old.  I  held  them 
lo  the  light,  and  th^jy  were  as  clear  as  if  laid  yesterday. 

"Boil  them,"  sais  I,  and  she  did  so;  and  I  must  say  it  was  a 
wrinkle  I  didn't  expect  to  pick  up  at  such  a  place  as  that,  for 
nothing     .uld  be  fresher. 

"Here  is  a  dollar,"  said  I,  "for  that  receipt,  for  it's  worth 
knowing,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  Now  "  thinks  I,  as  I  took  my  seat  again,  "  I  will  try  and  see 
if  this  French  gall  can  talk  English."  I  asked  her,  but  she  shook 
her  head. 

Sais  I,  "  Doctor,  ain't  she  a  beauty,  that  ?     See  what  lovely 
eyes  she  has  and  magnificent  hair  !     Oh,  if  she  was  well  got  up, 
and   fashionably    dressed,   wouldn't   s' 
beautiful  little  hands  and  feet  she  ha 
marry,  seein'  I  am  an  orthodox  man." 

Well,  she  never  moved  a  muscle ;  she  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on 
her  work,  and  there  wasn't  the  leastest  mite  of  a  smile  on  her  face. 
I  thought  her  head  was  rather  more  stationary,  if  anything,  as  if 
she  was  listening,  and  her  eyes  more  fixed  as  if  she  was  all 
attention;  for  she  I  d  dropped  a  stitch  in  her  knitting;  and  was 
a  taking  of  it  up,  so  perhaps  I  might  be  mistaken.  Thinks  I,  will 
try  you  on  t'other  tack. 

"  Doctor,  how  would  you  like  to  kiss  her,  eh  ?  Ripe-looking 
lips  them,  ain't  they  1  Well,  I  wouldn't  kiss  her  for  the  world," 
said  I ;    "I  wculd  just  as  soon  think  of  kissing  a  ham  that  is 


be  a   sneezer  ?      What 
I  wonder  if  she  would 


22Ti 


LOST     AT     BE A. 


|.# 


I 


i-  li 


m:^m 


covered  with  creosote.  There  is  io  much  ilo  and  snioke  on  'em,  I 
should  have  the  tosto  in  my  mouth  for  a  week.  Phew  !  I  think  I 
taste  it  now  !" 

She  colored  n  little  at  that  and  pretty  soon  got  up,  and  went  out 
of  iho  room  ;  and  presently  1  heard  her  washing  her  hands  and 
face. 

Thinks  1,  "  You  sly  fox  !  you  know  English  well  enough  to 
kiss  in  It,  if  you  can't  talk  in  it  easy.  I  thought  I'de  find  you  out; 
for  a  gull  that  won't  laugh  when  you  tickle  her,  can't  holpHcreamiii' 
n  little  when  you  pinch  her  ;  that's  a  fact."  She  returned  In  a  few 
iniiiutos,  quite  a  dilferent  ]ookin'  person,  and  resumed  her  usual 
employment,  but  still  persisted  that  she  did  not  know  Engliih. 
In  th(^  midst  of  ovr  conversation,  the  master  of  the  house,  Jerorno 
Boudrot  came  in.  Like  most  of  the  natives  of  Chosencook,  he  was 
short  in  stature,  but  very  active,  and  like  all  tha  rest,  a  great 
talker. 

*'  Ah,  gentleman,"  ho  said,  "  you  follows  do  sea,  eh  ?" 

"  No,"  sais  I,  "  the  sea  often  follows  us,  especially  when  the  wind 
is  fair." 

•'  True,  true,"  ho  said  ;  "  I  forget  dat.  It  followed  me  one  time. 
Oh,  I  was  oust  lost  at  sea ;  and  it's  an  awful  foelin'.  I  was  out  of 
sight  of  land  one  whole  day,  all  night,  and  little  piece  of  next  day. 
O,  wo  was  proper  frightened.  It  was  all  sea  and  sky,  and  big 
wave,  and  no  land,  and  none  of  us  knew  our  way  bi\ck."  And  ho 
opened  his  eyes  as  if  the  very  recollection  of  his  danger  alarmed 
him.     "  At  last  big  ship  came  by,  and  1  hailed  her,  and  ask  : 

"  '  My  name  is  Jerry  Boudrot ;  where  am  1  V 

"' Aboard  "of  your  own  vessel,'  said  they;  and  they  laughed 
like  anything,  and  left  us. 

"  Well,  towards  night  wo  were  overtaken  by  Yankee  vessel,  and 
a  say,  '  My  name  is  Jerry  Boudrot ;  where  am  IV 

"  '  Thm\^  said  the  sarcy  Yankee  captain,  '  and  if  you  get  this 
far,  you  will  bo  here ;''  and  they  laughed  at  me,  and  I  swore  at 
them,  and  called  'em  all  manner  of  num^s. 

"  Well,  then,  we  was  proper  frightened,  and  I  gave  myself  up 
for  lost,  and  1  was  so  sorry  1  hadn't  put  my  deed  of  my  land  on 
recor,  and  that  I  never  got  pay  for  half  a  cord  of  wood  I  sold  a 
woman,  vho  nevare  return  agin,  last  time  I  was  to  Halifax ;  and 
Esadore  Terrio  owe  me  two  shillings  and  six  pence,  and  I  got  no 
note  of  hand  for  it,  and  1  lend  my  ox-cart  for  one  day  to  Martell 
Baban,  and  he  will  keep  it  for  a  week,  and  wear  it  out,  and  my 
wife  marry  again  as  sure  as  de  woi'ld.  Oh,  I  was  very  scare  and 
proparc  sorry,  you  may  depend,  when  presently  great  big  Englisii 
ship  come  by,  and  I  hail  her. 

"  '  Mv  name  is  Jerry  Boudrot,'  sais  I,  '  when  did  you  seo 
land  last '/' 


LOST    AT    SEA. 


229 


n  did  you  sea 


**  *  Thirty  days  ago,'  said  tlio  captain. 
"♦Whore  am  H'  aais  I. 

" '  In  44°  40'  north,'  said  ho,  '  and  63°  40'  west,  as  near  as  I 
could  hear  hitn. 

"  •  And  what  country  is  dat  arc  V  said  I.  *  My  name  is  Jorry 
Boudrot.' 

"  *  Wi'iore  arc  you  bound  V  said  he. 

"'Home,' said  I.* 

"  I  Weil,  said  ho,  *at  this  season  of  the  year  you  shall  make  do 
run  in  twenty-five  days.  A  pleasant  passage  to  yoa !'  and  away 
ho  wont. 

"  Oh,  I  was  plaguo  scared  ;  for  it  is  a  dreadful  thing  to  be  lost 
at  sea. 

'"Twenty-five  days,'  said  I,  'aforo  wo  got  home.  Oh,  mon 
Dieu  !  oh  dear!  we  shall  all  starve  to  death  j  and  what  is  worse, 
die  first.     What  provisions  have  we,  boys  V 

" '  Well,'  sais  they,  ♦  wo  counted,  and  wo  had  two  figs  of 
tobocco,  and  six  loaf  bakc.'s  bread  (for  the  priest,)  two  feet  of 
wood,  three  matches,  and  five  gallons  of  water,  and  one  pipe  among 
us  all.'  Three  matches  and  five  gallons  of  water !  Oh,  I  was  so 
sorry  to  lose  my  life,  and  what  was  wus,  I  had  my  best  clothes 
on  bord. 

" '  Oh,  boys,  wo  are  out  of  sight  of  land  now,'  sais  I,  '  and  what 
IS  vvus,  may  be  we  go  so  far  we  get  out  sight  of  do  sun  too,  where 
is  dark  like  down  cellar.  Oh,  it's  a  shocking  ting  to  bo  lost  at  sea. 
Oh,  people  lose  deir  way  dcro  so  bad,  sometimes  dey  novare 
return  no  more.  People  that's  lost  in  de  wood  dey  come  back  if 
dey  live,  but  them  that's  lost  at  sea  nevare.  Oh,  I  was  damn 
scared.  Oh,  mon  Dieu  !  what  is  44°  40'  north  and  63°  40'  west? 
Is  dat  de  country  were  people  who  "re  lost  at  sea  go  to  ?  Boys,  is 
there  any  rum  on  board,  and  th.,^  said  there  was  a  bottle  for  the 
old  ladies  rhumatis.  Well,  hand  it  up,  and  if  ever  you  get  back 
tell  her  it  was  lost  at  sea,  and  has  gone  44°  40'  north  and  03°  40' 
west.     Oh,  dear,  dis  all  comes  from  going  out  of  sight  of  land.' 

"  Oh,  I  was  very  dry,  you  may  depend.  I  was  so  scared,  at 
being  lost  at  sea  that  way,  my  lips  stuck  together  like  the  sole  and 
upper-leather  of  a  shoe.  And  when  I  took  down  the  bottle  to 
draw  breath,  the  boys  took  it  away,  as  it  was  all  I  had.  Oh,  it 
set  my  mouth  afire,  it  was  made  to  warm  outside  and  not  inside. 
Dere  was  brimstone,  and  camphor,  a^d  eetle  red  pepper,  and  tur 
pentene  in  it.  Vary  hot,  vary  nasty,  and  vary  trong,  and  it  made 
me  sea-sick,  and  I  gave  up  my  dinner,  for  I  could  not  hole  him  no 
longer,  he  jump  so  in  de  stomach,  and  what  was  wuss,  I  had  so  lit- 
tle for  anoder  meal.     Fust  I  lose  my  way,  den  I  lose  my  sense, 

*  All  colonists  call  England  "  •"  me." 


280 


LOST     AT     8^A 


'  i 


den  I  lose  my  dinner,  and  what  is  wuss  I  lose  myself  to  sea.  Oh, 
I  repent  vary  much  of  my  sin,  in  going  out  of  sight  of  land  Well, 
I  lights  my  pipe  and  walks  up  and  down,  and  presently  the  sun 
comes  out  quite  bright. 

'• '  Well,  dat  sun,'  sais  I,  *  boys,  sets  every  night  behind  my 
barn  in  the  big  swamp,  somewhere  about  the  Hemlock  Grove. 
Well  dat  is  63"  40'  west,  I  suppose.  And  it  rises  ft  (aw  miles  to 
♦he  eastward  :)f  that  barn,  sometimes  out  of  a  fog  bank,  or  some- 
times  out  .)'  the  water;  well  that  is  44°  40'  north,  which  is  all  but 
east,  I  Fuppose.  Now,  if  we  steer  west  we  will  see  our  barn,  but 
steering  east  is  being  lost  at  sea,  for  in  time  you  would  bo  behind 
de  sun.' 

"  Well,  we  didn't  sleep  much  dat  night  you  may  depend,  but  we 
prayed  a  great  deal,  and  we  talked  a  great  deal,  and  I  was  so  cus- 
sed  scared  I  did  not  know  what  to  do.  Well,  morning  came  and 
still  no  land,  and  I  began  to  get  diablement  feared  again.  Every 
two  or  tree  minutes  I  run  up  de  riggin,  and  look  out,  but  couldn't 
see  nolhin.  At  last  1  went  down  to  my  trunk,  for  I  had  a  bottle 
there  for  my  rheumatics  too,  only  no  nasty  stuff  in  it,  that  the 
boys  didn't  know  of,  and  I  took  very  long  draught,  I  was  so 
scared  ;  and  then  I  went  on  deck  up  de  riggin  again. 

"'Boys,'  sais  I,  'there's  the  barn  that's  63°  40'  west.  I  told 
you  so.'  Well,  when  1  came  down  I  went  on  my  knees,  and  I 
vowed  as  long  as  I  lived  1  would  hug  as  tight  and  close — " 

"  Hug  your  wife  "  sais  I, 

"  Pooh  no,"  saiu  he,  turning  round  contemptuously  towards  her, 
"  hug  her,  eh !  why,  she  has  got  the  rheumatiz,  and  her  tongue  is 
in  mourning  for  her  teeth.  No,  hug  the  shore,  man,  hug  it  as  close 
as  possible,  and  never  lose  sight  of  land  ^or  fear  of  being  lost  at 
sea. 

The  old  woman,  perceiving  that  ^erry  had  been  making  some 
joke  at  her  expense,  asked  the  girl  the  meaning  of  it,  when  she 
rose,  and  seizing  his  cap  and  boxmg  his  ears  with  it,  right  and  left, 
asked  what  he  meant  by  wearing  it  before  gentlemen,  and  then 
poured  out  a  torrent  of  abusp  on  him,  with  such  volubility  I  was 
unable  to  follow  it. 

Jerry  sneak"d  off,  and  s;et  in  the  corner  near  his  daughter,  afraid 
to  speak,  an-^  old  woman  took  her  chair  again,  unable  to  do  so. 
There  was  ^.e  and  a  calm ;  so  to  change  the  conversation, 

sais  I : 

"  Sorrow,  take  the  rifle,  and  go  and  see  if  the.  is  a  Jesuit  priest 
about  here,  and  if  there  is,  shoot  him,  and  +ake  him  on  board  and 
cx)ok  him" 


'n  'J 


Lost  at  sea. 


281 


you  wouldn't  make  dis  child  do  murder,  would  you"?     Oh,  massa, 
Idll  do  poor  priest  who  nelibcr  did  no  harm  in  all  his  born  days, 
1  him  had  no  wife  and  child  to  iollow  him  to — " 


am 


"  The  pot,"  sais  I,  "  oh  yes,  if  they  ask  mt  artcr  him,  I  will  say 
he  is  gone  to  pot." 

*'  Oh,  niassa,  now  you  is  funnin',  ain't  you  ?"  and  he  tried  to 
force  a  laugh.  "  How  in  do  world  under  do  canopy  ob  hebbin 
nmst  do  priest  be  cooked  ?" 

"  Cut  his  head  and  feet  ofT,"  sais  I,  "  break  his  thighs  short,  close 
up  to  the  stumps,  bend  'em  up  his  side,  ram  him  into  the  pot,  and 
stow  him  with  ham  and  vegetables.  Lick  !  a  Jesuit  priest  is  deli- 
cious, done  that  way." 

The  girl  dropped  her  cards  on  her  knees  and  looked  at  me  with 
intense  anxiety.  She  seemed  quite  handsome,  I  do  actilly  believe 
ifshe  was  put  in  a  tub  and  washed,  laid  out  on  the  grass  a  few 
nights  with  her  face  up  to  bleach  il,  her  great  yarn  petticoats 
hauled  off  and  proper  ones  put  on,  and  her  head  and  feet  dressed 
right,  she'd  beat  the  Blue-nose  golU  for  beauty  out  and  out ;  but 
that  is  neither  here  nor  t^ere,  those  that  want  white  faces  must 
wash  them,  and  those  that  want  white  floors  must  scrub  them  ;  it's 
enough  for  me  that  they  are  white,  with'^tt  my  making  them  so. 
Weli,  she  looked  all  eyes  and  ''ars.  Jerr^  '  -.  undcr-jaw  dropped. 
Cutler  was  flabbergasted,  and  the  Doctor  loo  '^d  as  if  ho  thought : 
"Well,  what  are  you  at  now?"  while  the  old  womai  appeared 
anxious  enough  to  give  her  whole  barrel  of  eggs  to  know  what  was 
poing  on. 

"  Oh,  massa,"  said  Sorrow,  "  dis  here  child  can't  have  no  hand 
in  it.  Do  priest  will  pyson  you  to  a  dead  sartainty.  If  he  was 
baked  he  mout  do.  In  Africa  dey  is  hannibals  and  eat  derc  prison- 
ers, but  den  dey  bake  or  roast  'em ;  but  stew  him,  massa  !  by 
golly  he  will  pyson  you  as  sure  as  'postles.  My  dear  ole  misses 
died  from  only  eaten  hogs  wid  dere  heads  on." 

"  Hogs,"  said  I. 

"  Yes,  massa,  in  course,  hogs  wid  dere  heads  on.  Ah,  she  was 
a  most  a  beautiful  cook,  but  she  was  fcazled  out  by  bad  cookery 
at  de  last." 

"You  black  'Ilain,"  said  I,  "do  you  mean  to  say  your  mis- 
tress ever  eat  wi'ole  hogs  ?" 

"  Yes,  massa,  in  course  I  do,  but  it  was  abbin  dere  heads  on 
fixed  her  flint  fo.  her." 

"  What  an  awful  liar  you  are.  Sorrow." 

"  'Pon  my  sacred  word  and  honor,  massa,"  he  said,  "  I  stake  my 
testament  oat  on  it ;  does  you  tink  dis  here  child  now  would  swear 
to  a  lie  ?  true  as  preachin." 

"  Go  on,"  said  I,  "  I  like  to  see  a  fellow  '  go  the  whole  hog,* 
while  he  is  about  it.     How  many  did  it  take  to  kill  her  1" 


>-:x»mm 


*• 


232 


LOST     AT    SKA 


"  Well,  massa,  she  told  mc  herself,  on  her  def  bed,  she  didn't 
eat  no  more  nor  ten  or  a  dozen  hojrs,  but  she  didn't  blame  dcin,  it 
was  having  dcre  heads  on  did  all  the  'uischief.  I  was  away  when 
dey  was  cooked,  or  it  wouldn't  a  iiappencd.  1  was  down  to 
Charleston  Bank  to  draw  six  hundred  doila'^s  for  her,  and  when  I 
came  back  she  sent  for  nie.  'Sorrow,'  sais  she,  'Plutarch  has 
poisoned  me.' 

"  '  Oh,  de  black  villain,'  sais  I,  '  missus,  I  will  tyo  him  to  a  tree 
and  burn  him.' 

"  '  No,  no,'  she  said,  '  I  will  return  good  for  ebil.  Send  for  Rev. 
Mr.  IIo:niny,  and  Mr.  Succatash,  dc  Yankee  obcrseer,  and  te^l 
my  poor  granny  Chloe  her  ole  misses  is  dyin',  and  to  come  back, 
hot  foot,  and  bring  Plutarch,  for  my  disgestion  is  all  gone.'  Well' 
when  Plutarch  came  she  said,  '  Plue,  my  child,  you  have  killed 
your  misses  by  cooking  do  hogs  wid  derc  heads  "on,  but  I  won't 
punish  you,  I  is  intendin'  to  extinguish  you  by  kindness  among  de 
plantation  nigsers.     I  will  heap  coals  of  fire  on  your  head.' 

"  '  Dat's  right,  missus,'  sais  I,  'burn  de  villain  up,  but  burn  him 
with  green  wood  so  as  to  make  slow  fire,  dat's  right,  dat's  dc  ticket 
missus,  it  served  him  right.' 

"Oh,  if  you  eber  heard  yellin'  massa,  you'd  a  heard  it  den,  Plue 
he  ti-owed  himself  down  on  do  ground  and  he  rolled  and  he  kicked 
and  he  screamed  like  mad.  «. 

"  '  Don't  iviake  a  noise,  Piutarch,'  said  she,  '  I  can't  stand  it,  I 
ain't  agoin'  to  put  you  to  def  You  shall  lib.  I  will  gib  you  a 
wife.' 

"  '  Oh,  tankeo  misses,'  sa^d  he,  '  oh,  I  will  pray  for  you  night  and 
day,  when  I  ain't  awake  or  asleep,  for  eber  and  eber.' 

"  '  You  shall  ab  Cloe  for  a  wife.' 

"  Cloe,  massa,  was  seventy-five,  if  she  was  one  blessed  second 
old.  She  was  crippled  up  with  rheumatis,  and  walked  on  crutches, 
and  hadn't  a  tooth  in  her  head,  she  was  just  doubled  up  like  a  tall 
nigger  on  a  short  bed. 

"  '  Oil,  Lord,  missus,'  said  Plutarch,  'hab  mercy  on  dis  sinner, 
oh  dear  missus,  oh  lubly  missus,  oh  hab  mercy  on  dis  child.' 

"  '  Tankeo,  missus,'  said  Cloe-  '  God  bless  you,  missus,  I  is  quite 
appy  now.  I  is  a  leetle  too  young  for  dat  spark,  I  is  cuttin'  a  new 
set  o'  teeth  now,  and  ab  suffered  from  teethin'  most  amazin,  but  I 
will  make  him  a  lubin  wife.  Don't  be  shy,  Mr.  Plue,'  said  she, 
and  she  up  wid  one  ob  her  crutches  and  gub  him  a  poke  in  de  ribs 
dat  made  him  grunt  like  a  pig.  '  Come,  tand  up,'  sa; '  she, '  till  de 
passon  tie  de  knot  round  your  neck.' 

"  '  Oh  I  Lord,  missus,'  said  he,  '  ab  massy  !'  But  the  parson 
married  'em,  and  said  'Salute  your  bride!'  but  he  didn't  move, 

"  '  He  is  so  bashful,'  said  Cloe,  takin'  him  round  de  neck  end 
kissin'  ob  him.     '  Oh,  missus  ''  she  said,  'I  is  so  proud  ob  my 


LOST     AT     SEA. 


23S 


0  him  to  a  tree 


rseer,  and  te*! 
to  come  back. 


n,  but  I  won't 


you  night  and 


on  dis  sinner, 


bridofrrooin— ho  do  look  so  genteel  wid  ole  niassa'a  frill  shirt  on. 
don't  her 

"  When  doy  went  out,  Cloe  fotohed  him  a  crack  ober  his  pate 
with  her  crutcli  tiiat  sounded  like  a  cocoa-nut,  it  was  so  liollow. 

"  '  Take  dat,'  said  she,  '  for  not  sulteu  ob  your  bride,  you  good- 
for-notten  onmonerly  scallawag  you.' 

"Poor  dear  missus  !  she  died  dat  identical  night.' 

"Come  here,  Sorrow,"  said  I  :  "  come  and  look  me  in  the  face." 

The  moment  he  advanced,  Jerry  slipt  across  the  room,  and  hid 
behind  the  tongues  near  his  wife,     lie  was  terrified  to  death. 

"  })o  you  mean  to  say,"  said  1,  "  s»^«»  died  of  going  the  whole 
hog  'i     Was  it  a  hog — tell  me  the  truth  ?" 

"  W  ell,  massji,"  said  he,  "  1  don't  know  to  a  zact  sartainty,  for  I 
was  not  derc  when  she  was  tooked  ill— 1  was  at  de  bank  at  de  time 
—but  1  will  take  my  davy  it  was  hogs  or  dogs.  1  wont  just  zackly 
sartify  which,  because  she  was  'mazin  fond  of  both;  "but  1  will 
swear  it  was  one  or  toder,  and  dat  dey  was  cooked  wid  dere  heads 
on— dat  1  will  stificate  to  till  1  die  !' 

"  Hogs  or  dogs,"  said  1,  "  whole,  with  their  heads  on— do  you 
mean  that  1" 

'"Yes,  massa,  dis  here  child  do,  of  a  sartainty." 

"  Hogs  like  the  pig,  and  dogs  like  the  Newfoundlander  at  the 
door  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  massa,  on  course  it  don't  stand  to  argument  ob  reason 
it  was.  Oh,  no,  it  was  quatogs  and  quahogs— clams  you  know,  we 
culls  'em  down  South,  for  shortness,  hogs  and  dogs.  Oh,  massa, 
on  course  you  know'd  dat — 1  is  sure  you  does — you  is  only  in- 
tendin'  on  pupposc  to  make  game  of  dis  here  nigger,  isn't  you." 

"  You  villain,"  said  I,  "  yoi,  took  a  rise  out  of  me  that  time,  at 
any  rate.  It  aint  often  any  feller  does  that,  so  1  think  you  deserve 
a  glass  of  the  old  Jamaica  for  it  when  we  go  on  board.  Now  go 
and  shoot  a  Jesuit  priest  if  you  see  one." 

The  gall  explained  the  order  to  her  mother. 

"  Shoot  the  priest,"  said  she,  in  French. 

''Shoot  the  priest,"  said  Jei-ry  ;  "  sho(,f,  mc  !''  And  he  popped 
down  behind  his  wife,  as  if  he  had  no  ol)iv'ction  to  her  reeeivin<'  the 
ball.  *" 

Slie  ran  to  her  chest,  and  got  out  the  little  horn  box  with  the 
n:;il  of  St.  Francis,  and  looked  determined  to  die  at  her  post.     Sor- 
row deposited  the  gun  in  the  corner,  hung  down  his  head,  and  said  : 
"  Dis  here  child,  Massa  Slick,  can't  do  no  murder." 
"  Then  1  must  do  it  myself,"  said  1,  rising  and  proceeding  to  get 
Diy  rilie.  "  ■     -  -       - 

"Slick,"  sajd  the  Doctor,  '•  what  the  devil  do  you  mean  ?" 
"Why,"  says  1,  a  setten  down  again,  "I'll  tell  you.    Jesuit 


234 


LOST     AT     SEA. 


priests  were  first  seen  in  Spain  and  Portugal,  where  they  are  very 
fond  of  them.     I  have  ofVen  eaten  them  there." 

"  First  seen  in  Spain  and  Portugal !"  he  replied.  "  You  aie  out 
there — but  go  on." 

"  There  is  a  man,"  said  I,  "  in  Yorkshire,  who  says  his  ancestor 
brought  the  first  over  from  America,  when  he  accompanied  Cabot 
in  his  voyages,  and  he  has  one  as  a  crest.  But  that  is  all  bunkum. 
Cabot  never  saw  one." 

"  What  in  the  world  do  you  call  a  Jesuit  priest?" 

"  Why  a  turkey,  to  be  sure,"  said  I ;  "  that's  what  thoy  call  them 
at  Madrid  and  Lisbon,  after  the  Jesuits  who  first  introduced  them 
in  Europe." 

"  My  goody  gracious  !"  said  Sorrow,  "  if  that  ain't  fun  alive  it's 
a  pity,  that's  all." 

"  Well,"  said  Jerry,  "  I  was  lost  at  sea  that  time ;  I  was  out  of 
sight  of  land.     It  puzzled  me  like  44°  north,  and  63°  40'  west." 

"  Hogs,  dogs,  and  Jesuit  priests  !"  said  the  Doctor,  and  off  he 
set  again,  with  har  Is  on  his  sides,  rushing  round  the  room  ,n  con. 
vulsions  of  laughter. 

"  The  Priest,"  said  I  to  the  old  woman,  "  has  givon  him  a  pain 
in  his  stomach,"  when  she  ran  to  the  dresser  again,  and  got  the 
cup  of  soot  for  him  which  had  not  yet  been  emptied. 

''  Oh  dear  !"  said  he,  "  I  can't  stand  that ;  oh.  Slick,  you  will  be 
the  death  of  me  yet,"  and  he  bolted  ont  of  the  house. 

Having  purchased  a  bushel  of  clams  from  the  old  lady,  and  bid 
her  and  her  daughter  good-bye,  we  vamosed  the  ranch*  At  the 
door  I  saw  a  noble  gobbler. 

"  What  will  you  take  for  that  Jesuit  priest,"  said  I,  "Jerry?" 

"  Seven  and  sixpence,"  said  he. 

"  Done,"  said  I,  and  his  head  was  perforated  with  a  ball  in  an 
instant. 

The  dog,  unused  to  such  a  sound  from  his  master's  house,  and 
recollecting  the  damage  he  received  from  the  fall  of  the  Doctor,  set 
off  with  the  most  piteous  howls  that  ever  were  heard,  and  fied  for 
safety — the  pigs  squealed  as  if  they  had  each  been  wounded — aiiu 
the  geese  joined  in  the  general  uproar — while  c  !  Madam  Boudrot 
and  her  daughter  rushed  screaming  to  the  door,  to  ascertain  what 
these  dreadful  men  were  about,  who  talked  of  shooting  priests  and 
eating  hogs  and  dogs  entire,  with  their  heads  on.  It  was  some  time 
before  order  was  restored,  and  when  Jerry  went  into  the  house  to 
light  his  pipe  and  deposit  his  money,  I  called  Cutler's  attention  to 

*  One  of  the  numerous  corruptions  of  Spanish  words  introduced  into  the 
States  since  the  Mexican  war,  and  signifies  to  quit  the  house  or  shanty. 
Rancho  designates  a  hut,  covered  with  branches,  where  herdsmen  temporarily 
reside. 


Lost  at   sea 


236 


I't  fun  alive  it's 


tnj  action  and  Biyle  of  a  horse  in  the  pasture,  whom  my  gun  had 
alwTMet}. 

-  That  animal,''  says  I,  "  must%avc  dropped  from  the  clouds.  If 
he  i^  young  and  sound,  and  he  moves  as  if  he  were  both,  he  is 
worth  stx  Hundred  doiiars.  I  must  have  him.  Can  you  give  him 
a  passage  till  we  meet  one  of  our  large  coal  ships  coming  from 
Picton.'" 

"  CertamJy,"  said  he. 

"Jerry,"  sais  I,  when  he  retuinecf,  "what  in  the  world  do  you 
keep  such  a  tly-j,way  devil  as  that  for?  why  don't  you  sell  him  and 
buy  cattle*?     Can't  you  sell  him  at  Halifax  V 

"  Oh !"  said  he,  "  I  can't  go  there  now  no  more,  Mr.  Slick.  The 
boys  call  after  mu  and  say  :  Jerry,  when  did  you  see  land  last  1  My 
name  is  Jerry  Boudrot,  where  am  I  ?  Jerry,  I  thought  you  was 
lost  to  sea !  Jerry,  has  your  colt  got  any  slippares  on  yet  1  (shoes) 
Jerry,  what  does  44—40  mean  i     Oh  !  1  can't  stand  it !" 

"  Why 'don't  you  send  him  by  a  neighbor  ?" 

"  Oh !  none  o'  my  neighbors  can  ride  him.  We  can't  break  him. 
We  are  fishermen,  not  horsemen." 

"  Where  did  he  come  from  ?" 

"  The  priest  brought  a  mare  from  Canada  with  him,  and  this  is 
her  colt.  He  gave  it  to  me  when  I  retirued  from  being  lost  at 
sea,  he  was  so  glad  to  see  me.  I  wish  you  would  buy  him,  Mr. 
Slick ;  you  will  have  him  cheap ;  I  can't  do  nothing  with  him,  and 
nc  fence  will  stop  him." 

"  What  the  plague,"  sais  I,  "  do  you  suppose  I  want  of  a  horse 
on  board  of  a  ship  1  do  you  want  me  to  be  lost  at  sea,  too  ?  and 
besides,  if  I  did  try  to  oblige  you,"  said  I,  "  and  offered  you  five 
pounds  for  that  devil  nobody  can  ride,  and  no  fence  stop,  you'd  ask 
seven  pound  ten  right  off.  Now,  that  turkey  was  not  worth  a 
doliar  here,  and  you  asked  at  once  seven  and  sixpence.  Nobody 
can  trade  with  vou,  you  are  so  everlasting  sharp.  If  you  was  lost 
at  sea,  you  know  your  way  by  land,  at  all  events." 

"  Well,"  sais  he,  "  say  seven  pounds  ten  and  you  will  have  him." 

"  Oh !  of  course,"  sais  I,  "  there  is  capital  pasture  on  board  of  a 
vessel.     Where  ;..n  I  to  get  hay  till  I  send  him  home?" 

"I  will  give  you  three  hundred  weight  into  the  bargain." 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "let's  look  at  him  ;  can  you  catch  him  f 

lie  vent  mto  the  house,  and  bringing  out  a  pan  of  oats,  and 
calling  him,  the  horse  followed  him  into  the  stable,  where  he  was 
scoured.  I  soon  ascertained  he  was  perfectly  sound,  and  that  he 
^^''s  fi»  uncommonly  fine  animal.  I  sent  Sorrow  on  board  for  my 
saddle  and  bridle,  whip  and  spurs,  and  desired  that  the  vessel  might 
be  warped  into  the  wharf.  When  the  negro  returned,  I  repeated 
the  terms  of  the  bargain  to  Jerry,  wiiicli  being  assented  to,  the 
animal  was  brought  out  into  the  centre  of  the  field,  and  while  his 


236 


LOST     AT     BE  A . 


1.1^' 


I'' 'I 


owner  was  talking  to  him,  I  vaulted  into  the  saddle.  At  first  he 
seemed  very  mucn  alarmed,  snorting  and  blowing  violently ;  he 
then  bnunded  forward  and  dashect«)ut  with  his  hind  feet  most  fiiri. 
ou.^ly,  which  was  succeeded  by  alternate  rearing,  kicking,  and  back- 
ing. I  don't  think  I  ever  see  a  crittur  splurge  so  badly  ;  at  last  he 
ran  the  whole  length  of  the  field,  occasionally  throwing  up  his  heels 
very  high  in  the  air,  and  veturned  unwillingly,  stopping  every  few 
minutes  and  plunging  outrageously.  On  the  second  trial  he  again 
ran,  and  for  the  first  .time  I  g3,te  him  both  whip  and  spur,  and  made 
him  take  the  fence,  and,  in  returning,  I  pushed  him  in  the  same 
manner,  making  him  take  the  leap  as  before.  Though  awkward 
and  ignorant  of  the  meaning  of  the  rein,  the  animal  knew  he  was 
in  the  hands  of  a  power  superior  to  his  own,  and  submitted  far 
more  easily  than  1  expected. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  wharf  I  removed  the  saddle,  and,  placina 
a  strong  rope  round  his  neck,  had  it  attached  to  the  windlass,  not  to 
drag  him  on  board,  but  to  make  him  feel,  if  he  refused  to  advance, 
that  he  was  powerless  to  resist,  an  indispensable  precaution  in 
breaking  horses.  Once,  and  once  only,  he  attempted  to  escape ;  he 
reared  and  threw  himself,  but  finding  the  strain  irresistible,  he 
yielded,  and  went  on  board  quietly.  Jerry  was  as  delighted  to  get 
rid  of  him  as  I  was  to  purchase  him,  and  though  I  knew  that  seven 
pound  ten  was  as  much  as  he  could  ever  realize  out  of  him,  I  felt  I 
ought  to  pay  him  for  the  hay,  and  also  that  I  could  well  afford  to 
give  him  a  little  conciliation  present;  so  I  gave  him  two  barrels  of 
flour  in  addition,  to  enable  him  to  make  his  peace  with  his  wife, 
whom  he  had  so  grossly  insulted  by  asserting  that  his  vow  to 
heaven  was  to  hug  the  shore  hereafter,  and  had  no  reference  to  her. 
If  I  aint  mistaken,  Jerry  Boudrot,  for  so  I  have  named  the  animal 
after  him,  will  astonish  the  folks  at  Slickville;  for  of  all  the  horses 
on  this  continent,  to  my  mind,  the  real  genuine  Canadian  is  the  best 
by  all  odds. 

"  Ah!  my  friend,"  said  Jerry,  addressing  the  horse,  "  you  shall 
soon  be  out  of  sight  of  land,  like  your  master ;  but,  unlike  him,  I 
hope  you  shall  never  be  lost  at  sea." 


f  '! 


HOLDING     UP     THE    MIRBOB. 


237 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

HOLDING    UF    THE    MIRROR. 

_  From  Halifax  to  Cumberland,  Squire,  the  eastern  coast  of  Nova 
Scotia  presents  more  harbors  fit  for  the  entrance  of  men-ofwar 
than  the  whole  Atlantic  coast  of  our  country,  from  M.me  to  Mex- 
ico.    No  part  of  the  world  I  am  acquainted  with,  is  so  well  sup- 
plied, and  so  little  frequented.     They  are  "  thar,"  as  we  sav  biit 
where  are  the  large  ships  1  growing  in  the  forest,  I  guess.     And  the 
.large  towns,  all  got  to  be  built,  1  reckon.     And  the  mines,  whv, 
wf.nting  to  be  worked.     And  the  fisheries.     Well,  I'll  tell  you  if 
you  will  promise  not  to  let  on  about  it.     We  are  going  to  have  them 
by  treaty  as  we  now  have  them  by  trespass.     Fact  is,  we  treat 
with  the  iJntish  and  the  Indians  in  the  same  way.     Bully  them  if 
we  can,  and  if  that  will  not  do,  get  the  most  valuable  things  they 
have,  in  exchange  for  trash,  like  glass  beads  nnd  wooden  clocks, 
btill,  bquire,  there  is  a  vast  improven.jnt  here,  thouoh  I  won't  say 
there  amt  room  for  more  ;  but  there   is  such  a  change  come  over 
the  people,  as  is  quite  astonishing.     The  Blue-nose  of  1854  is  no 
longey  the  Blue-nose  of  1834.     He  is  more  active,  more  industrious 
and  more  enterprising.      Intelligent  the  ciittur  always  was  but 
unfort'inately  he  was  lazy.     He  was  asleep   then,  now  he  is  wide 
awake  and  up  and  doing.     He  never  had  no  occasion  to  be  ashamed 
to  shew  hmiself,  for  he  is  a  good  looking  feller,  but  he  needn't  now 
be  no  longer  skeered,  to  answer  to  his  name,  when  the  muster  is 
come,  and  his  n  is  called  out  in  the  roll,  and  say  "here  am  I  Sirree  " 
A  new  generation  has  sprung  up,  some  of  the  drones  are  still  about 
the  hive,  but  there  is  a  young  vigorous  race  coming  on  who  will 
keep  pace  with  the  age. 

It's  a  great  thing  to  have  a  good  glass  to  Icolc  in  now  and  then 
and  see  yourself     They  have  had  the  mirror  held  up  to  them.        ' 

Lord,  I  shall  never  forget  when  I  was  up  to  Rawdon  here  once  a 
countryman  came  to  the  inn  where  I  was,  to  pay  me  for  a  clock'  I 
had  put  ofl'  oil  him,  and  as  I  was  a  passin  through  the  entry  I  saw 
the^ critter  standin  before  the  glass,  awfally  h<;rrified. 

"  My  good  gracious,"  said  he,  a  talking  to  himself,  "  my  good 
gracious,  is  this  you,  Joim  Smller,  I  haven't  seen  you  before  now 
going  on  twenty  years.  Oh,  how  shockingly  you  are  altered,! 
shouldn't  a  known  yen,  I  declare." 

Now,  I  have  held  the  mirror  to  these  fe!lnv.'.s  to  sco  themselves 
in,  and  it  has  scared  them  so  they  have  shaved,  slicked  up,  and 
made  themselves  look  decent.  1  won't  say  I  made  all  the  changes 
mjself,  for  Providence  scourged  them  'nto  activity,  by  sending  the 


238 


HOLDING     UP     THE    MIBEOB. 


IR:.S 


■weavel  into  their  wheat  fields,  tho  rot  into  their  potatoes,  and  the 
drouguL  into  the  hay  crops.  It  made  them  scratch  round,  I  tell 
you,  so  as  to  earn  their  grub,  and  the  exertion  did  them  good. 
Well,  the  blisters  I  have  put  on  their  vanity,  s'ung  'em  so  they 
jumped  high  enough  to  see  the  right  road,  and  the  way  they  travel 
ahead  novvis  a  caution  to  snails. 

Now,  if  it  was  you,  who  had  done  your  country  this  sarvice,  you 
would  have  spoke  as  mealy-mouthed  of  it  as  if  butter  wouldn't  melt 
in  it.  "  I  flatters  myself,"  you  would  have  said,  "  I  had  some  little 
small  share  in  it."  "  I  have  lent  my  feeble  aid."  "  I  have  contribu- 
ted  my  poor  mite,"  and  so  on,  and  looked  as  meek,  and  felt  as 
proud,  as  a  Pharisee.  Now,  that's  not  my  way.  I  hold  up  the 
mirror,  whether,  when  folks  see  themselves  in  it,  they  see  me  there 
or  not.  The  value  of  a  glass  is  its  truth.  And  where  colonists 
have  suffered,  is  from  false  reports,  ignorance,  and  misrepresenta- 
tion. There  is  not  a  word  said  of  them  that  can  be  depended  on. 
Missionary  returns  of  all  kinds  arc  colored,  and  doctored  to  suit 
English  subscribing  palates,  and  it's  a  pity  they  should  stand  at  thf 
head  of  the  list.  British  travellers  distort  thiogs  the  same  way. 
They  land  at  Halifax,  where  they  see  the  first  contrast  between 
Europe  and  America,  and  that  contrast  aiiit  favorable,  for  the  town 
•'s  dingy  lookin  and  wants  paint,  and  tho  land  round  it  is  poor  and 
stony.  But  that  is  enough,  so  they  set  down  and  abuse  the  whole 
country,  stock  and  fluke,  and  write  as  wise  about  it  as  if  they  had 
seen  it  all,  instead  of  overlooking  one  mile  from  the  deck  of  a 
steamer.  The  military  enjoy  it  layond  anything,  and  are  far  more 
comfortable  than  in  soldiering  in  England ;  but  it  don't  do  to  say 
so,  for  it  counts  for  foreign  service,  and  like  the  witnesses  at  tho 
court-marshal  at  Windsor,  every  feller  said,  iion  mi  recordo.  Gov- 
ernors who  now-a-days  have  nothing  to  do,  have  plenty  of  leisure 
to  write,  and  their  sufferings  are  such,  their  pens  aio  inadequate  to 
the  task.     They  are  very  much  to  be  pitied. 

Well,  colonists  on  the  other  hand  seldom  get  their  noses  out  of 
it.  But  if  provincials  do  iiow  and  then  come  up  on  the  other  side 
of  the  big  pond,  like  deep  sea  fish  rising  to  the  surface,  they  spout 
and  blow  like  porpoises,  and  try  to  look  as  large  as  whales,  and 
i>cople  only  laugh  at  them.  Navy  officers  extol  the  harbor  and  the 
market,  and  the  kindness  and  hospitality  of  the  Plaligonians,  but 
that  is  all  they  know,  and  as  far  as  that  goes  they  speak  the  truth. 
It  wants  an  impartial  friend  like  me  to  hold  up  the  mirror,  both 
for  their  sakes  and  the  Downing  Street  officials  too.  Is  it  any 
wonder  then  that  the  English  don't  know  what  they  are  talking 
about?  Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  devil's  advocate,  a  nickname  I 
gave  to  one  of  the  understrappers  of  the  Colouiai  oiTu-t,-,  an  ear 
mark  that  will  stick  to  the  feller  for  ever  !  Well,  when  thoy  go  to 
make  a  saint  at  Rome,  and  canonize  some  one  who  has  been  dcud 


HOLDING     UP    TlIK    MIRROK. 


289 


so  long  he  is  m  danger  of  being  forget,  the  cardinals  hold  a  sort  of 
court-martial  on  him,  and  a  man  is  appointed  to  rake  and  scrape 
all  he  can  agm  hnn,  and  they  listen  very  patiently  to  all  he  has  to 
say,  so  as  not  to  do  things  in  a  hurry.     Ho  is  called  '  the  devil's 
advocate,'  but  he  never  gained  a  cause  yet.     The  same  form  usod 
to  be  gone  througl    at  Downing  Street,  by  an  underling,  but  he 
always  gainea  his  point.     The  nickname  of  the  'devil's  advocate' 
thiit  1  gave  him  did  his  business  for  him,  he  is  no  longer  there  now. 
Ihe  iintish  cabinet  wants  the  mirror  held  up  to  therr,  to  show 
,  them  how  they  look  to  others.     Now,  when  an  order  is  transmitted 
by  a  imnister  of  the  crown,  as  was  done  last  war,  to  send  all  Yan- 
keo  prisoners  to  the  fora-ess  of  Louisburg  for  safe  keepin.r  when 
that  fortress  more  than  sixty  years  before  had  been  so  effectual]  v 
razed  from  the  face  of  the  earth  by  engineer  officers  sent  from  En<T. 
land  for  the  purpose,  why  it  is  natural  a  colonist  should  laurrh  and 
say  capital !  only  it  is  a  little  too  good ;  and  when  another  minister 
says,  ho  can  t  hnd  good  men  to  be  governors,  in  order  to  defend 
appointments  that  his  owa  party  say  are  too  bad,  what  lan^ruafre  is 
strong  enough  to  express  his. indignation.     Had  he  said  ope  dy  and 
manly,  we  arc  so  situated,  and  so  bound  by  parliamentary  obliga- 
tions toe  not  only  have  to  pass  over  the  whole  bod//  of  provincials 
themselves  who  have  the  most  interest  and  are  best  in/onned  in  colonial 
matters,  but  we  have  to  appoint  some  people  like  those  to  whom 
you  object,  who  are  forced  upon  us  by  hollerin'  their  daylights  out  of 
us  at  elections,  when  we  would  gladly  select  others,  who  are  wholly 
unexccptionable,  and  their  name  is  legion.     Why  they  would  have 
pitied  his  condition  and  admired  his  manliness.     If  this  sweepin<T 
charge  be  true,  what  an  enconium  it  is  upon  the  Dalhousies  thS 
Gosfords,  the  Durhams,  Sydenhams,  Metcalfs  and  Elgins,  that  they 
were  chosen  because  suitable  men  could  not '  e  found,  if  not  sup- 
ported by  party.     All  that  can  be  said  for  a  minister  who  talks 
such  stuff,  is  that  a  man  who  knows  so  little  of  London  as  to  be 
unable  to  find  the  shortest  way  home,  may  easily  lose  himself  in 
the  wilds  of  Canada. 

Now  we  licked  the  British  when  we  had  only  three  millions  of 
people,  including  niggers,  who  are  about  as  much  use  in  a  war  as 
crows  that  feed  on  the  slain,  but  don't  help  to  kill  'em.  We  have 
'run  up'  an  empire,  as  we  say  of  a  '  wooden  house,'  or  as  the  gall 
who  was  asked  where  she  was  raised,  said  '  she  warn't  raised,  she 
growed  up.'  We  have  shot  up  into  manhood,  afore  our  beards 
grew,  and  have  made  a  nation  that  aint  afeard  of  all  creaHon. 
Where  will  you  find  a  nation  like  ours  ?  Answer  me  that  question 
but  don't  reply  as  an  Irishman  does  by  repeating  it.  'Is  it  where 
1  will  (iud  one,  your  honor?' 

jMinister  used  to  talk  of  some  old  chap,  that  killed  a  dragon  and 
planted  his  teeth,  and  armed  men  sprung  up.     As  soon  as  we  whip. 


240 


HOLDING     UI     THE     MIBBOB 


f 


ped  the  British  we  sowed  their  teeth,  and  full-grown  cooi  s  growed 
right  out  of  the  earth.  Lord  bless  you,  we  have  fellows  like  Crocket 
that  would  sneeze  a  man-of-war  right  out  of  the  M'ater. 

We  have  a  right  to  brag ;  in  fact  it  aint  braggin,  its  talking  his- 
tory,  and  cramming  statistics  down  a  fellow's  throat,  and  if  he 
wants  tables  to  set  down  to,  and  study  thera,  there's  the  old  chairs 
of  the  governors  of  the  thirteen  united  universal  worlds  of  the  old 
states,  besides  the  rough  ones  of  the  new  states  to  sit  on,  and  can- 
vas-back  ducks,  blue  point  oysters,  and  as  Sorrow  says,  "hogs  and 
dogs,"  for  soup  and  pies,  for  refreshment  from  labor,  as  freemasons 
say.  Brag  is  a  good  dog  and  holdfast  is  a  better  one,  but  what  do 
you  say  to  a  cross  of  the  two— and  that's  just  what  we  are.  An 
English  statesman  actually  thinks  nobody  knows  anything  but 
himself.  And  his  conduct  puts  folks  both  on  the  defensive  and 
offensive.  He  eyes  even  an  American  all  over  as  much  as  to  say, 
wheie  the  plague  did  you  originate,  what  field  of  cotton  or  tobacco 
was  you  took  from,  and  if  a  Canadian  goes  to  Downing-street,  the 
secretary  starts,  as  much  as  to  say,  I  hope  you  han't  got  one  o' 
them  rotten  eggs  in  your  hand,  you  pelted  Elgin  with.  Upon  my 
soul,  it  wern't  my  fault,  his  indemnifyin'  rebels,  we  never  encourage 
traitors  except  in  Spain,  Sicily,  Hungary,  and  places  we  have 
nothin'  to  do  with.  He  brags  of  purity  as  much  as  a  dirty  piece  of 
paper  does,  that  it  was  originally  clean. 

"  We  appreciate  your  loyalty  most  fully  I  assure  you,"  he  says. 
"  When  the  militia  put  down  the  rebellion,  without  efficient  aid 
from  the  military,  parliament  would  have  passed  a  vote  of  thanks 
to  you  for  your  devotion  to  our  cause,  but  really  we  were  so  busy 
just  then  we  forgot  it.  Put  that  egg  in  your  pocket,  that's  a  good 
fellow,  but  don't  set  down  on  it,  or  it  might  stain  the  chair,  and 
folks  might  think  you  was  frightened  at  seeing  so  big  a  man  as  me," 
and  then  he  would  turn  round  to  the  window  and  laugh. 

Whoever  brags  over  me  gets  the  worst  of  it,  that's  a  fict.  Lord, 
I  sliall  never  forget  a  rise  I  once  took  out  of  one  of  these  magnetized 
officials,  who  know  all  about  the  colonies,  tho'  they  never  saw  one. 
I  don't  want  any  man  to  call  me  coward,  and  say  I  won't  take  il 
passonal.  There  was  a  complaint  made  by  some  of  our  folks, 
against  the  people  of  the  Lower  provinces  seizing  our  coasters 
under  pretence  they  were  intrudin  on  the  fisheries,  our  embassador 
was  laid  up  at  the  time  with  rheumatism  whicli  he  called  gout, 
because  it  sounded  diplomatic.  So  says  he,  "  Slick,  take  this  letter 
and  deliver  it  to  the  minister,  and  give  him  some  verbal  explana- 
tions." 

Well,  down  I  goes,  was  announced  and  ushered  in,  and  ^^hen  he 
saw  me.  he  looked  me  all  over  as  a  tailor  does  a  man  before  he 
takes  his  measure.  It  made  me  hoppin'  mad  I  tell  you,  for  in  a 
general  way  I  don't  allow  any  man  to  turn  up  his  nose  at  me 


)i.l 


HOLDING     UP    THE    MIRROB. 


Hi 


5  never  encourage 


)ig  a  man  as  me. 


w  hoiit  having  a  shot  at  it.  So  when  I  sat  down  I  spit  into  the 
fire,  ma  way  to  put  it  ouu  amost,  and  he  drew  back  and  made  a 
face  a  leetle,  just  a  leetle  uglier  then  his  natural  one  was 

Bad  habit,  sais  I,  "that  of  spittln',  aint  it?"  lookin'  urj  at 
him  as  innocent  as  you  please,  and  makin  a  face  exactly  like  h's 

Very,"  said  he,  and  he  gave  a  shudder. 

^?  u  h  !!  l?*^"'^  ^"^"^  whether  you  are  aware  of  it  or  not   but 
most  bad  habits  are  catching."  '     ^ 

«  I  should  hope  not,"  sauf  he,  and  he  drew  a  little  further  off. 
/  Fac  ,     sais  I,  "now  if  you  loo'^  long  and  often  at  a  n^an  that 
w.nks.  It  sets  you  a  winkm'.     If  you  see  a  fellow  with  a  twitch  in 
his  face,  you  Jeel  your  cheek  doin'  the  same,  and  stammerin'  is 
catch-ng  too      Now  I  caught  that  habit  at  court,  sincelcame  to 
Europe      I  dined  wunst  with  the  King  of  Prussia,  when  I  was  -vith 
the  embassador  on  a  visit  at  Berlin,  and  the  King  beats  all  natur  in 
spittin     and    he  noise  he  makes  aforehand  is  like  clearin' a  grate 
out  with  a  poker,  it',  horrid.     Well,  that's  not  the  worst  of  it  he 
uses^that  ugly  German  word  for  it,  that  vulgarians  translate  "spit- 
ting.       Now  some  of  our  western  people  are  compelled  to  chew  a 
little  tobacco,  but  like  a  broker  tasting  cheese,  when  testing  wine 
It  .s  only  done  to  be  able  to  judge  of  the  quality  of  the  article,  but 
even  them  unsophisticated,  free  and  enlightened  citizens,  have  an 
mnate  ref  nement  about  them.     They  never  use  that  nasty  word 
but  call  It  -expressing  the  aribiay     Well,  whenever  his  Majesty 
crosses  my  .   md,  I  do  the  same  out  of  clear  sheer  disgust.     Som*e 
0    hem  sort  of  uppercrust  people  think  they  can  do  Is  they  like, 
anr  I  call  them  b,g  bugs  who  use  the  privilege  of  indulging  those 
evil  habits.     When  folks  like  the  king  do  it,  I  calls  them  -Hiah 
low,  jack,  and  the  game."  °  * 

Well,  the  st..re  he  ga"c  ^--  would  a  made  you  die  a  larfin'  •  I 
never  saw  a  man  in  my  life  look  so  skeywonaky.  He  knew  it  was 
mie  that  the  king  had  that  custom,  and  it  dumbfoundered  him 
He  looked  at  me  as  much  as  to  say,  well,  that  is  capital;  the  idea 
of  a  Yankee,  who  spits  like  a  garden  engine,  swearing  it's  a  bad 
habit  he  lamed  in  Europe,  and  a  trick  he  got  from  dining  with  a 
king,  is  the  richest  thing  1  ever  heard  in  ray  life.  I  must  tell  that 
to  ralmerston. 

But  I  didn't  let  him  off  so  easy.     In  the  course  of  talk,  says  he : 
•  Mr  Slick,  is  It  true  that  in  South  Carolina,  if  a  free  niffger  on 

board  of  one  of  our  vessels,  lands  there,  he  is  put  into  jail  until'the 

snip  sails  s 

"  It  is,"  said  I.     "  We  consider  a  free  nigger  and  a  free  English 
man  on  a  par;  we  imprison  a  free  black  lesc  Hp.  shnnirl  n,.nj."pt 
our  slaves.     The  Duke  of  Tuscany  imprisons  a  free  Englishman"  if 
ne  has  a  bible  in  his  possession,  lest  he  should  corrupt  his  slayi* 


242 


HOLDING     UP    THE    MIRROB. 


I 


It's  upon  the  principle,  that  what  Is  sauce  for  the  goose,  is  sauc^  for 
the  gander," 

He  didn't  pursue  the  subject. 

That's  what  I  call  brag  fur  brag.     We  never  allow  any  created 
critter,  male  or  female,  to  go  ahead  of  us  in  ai.ything.     1  heard  a 
lady  say  to  an  embassador's  wife,  once,  in  answer  to  her  question 
"  how  she  was  ?''  ' 

"  Oh,  I  am  in  such  rude  health,  I  have  grown  quite  indecenllu 
stout."  ^ 

Embassadress  never  heard  them  slang  words  before  (for  even 
high  life  has  its  slang),  but  she  wouldn't  be  beat. 

"  Oh,"  said  she,  "  all  that  will  yield  to  exercise.     Before  I  was 
married  I  was  the  rudest  and  most  indecent  gall  in  all  Connectic-t." 

Well,  now,  an  Irishman,  with  his  elbow  through  his  coat,  and  hU 
shirt,  if  he  has  one,  playing  diggy-doubt  from  his  trowserg, 
flourishes  his  shillalah  over  his  head,  and  brags  of  the  '  Jmirald  Isle ' 
and  the  most  splendid  pisantry  in  the  world  ;  a  Scotchman  boasts, 
that  next  to  the  devil  and  the  royal  owner  of  PJtna,  he  is  the  richest 
proprietor  of  sulphur  that  ever  was  heard  of;  while  a  Frenchman, 
whose  vanity  exceeds  both,  has  the  modesty  to  cal.  the  English  a 
nation  of  shopkeepers,  the  Yankees,  canaille,  and  all  the  rest'of  the 
wo^M  beasts.  Even  John  LJhinaman  swaggers  about  with  his  three 
tan-  a.A  calls  foreigners  "  Barbarians."  If  we  go  ahead  and  speak 
out,  do  you  do  so,  too.  Y  u  '«^ve  a  right  to  do  so.  Hold  the 
mirror  to  them,  and  your  ccuut'-ymen.  too.  It  won't  He,  that's  a 
fact.  They  -equire  it,  1  ass'Te  you.  The  way  the  just  ex»?oofn. 
tions  of  piuvincials  have  been  disappointed,  the  loyal  portion 
depressed,  the  turbulent  petted,  and  the  manner  the  feelings  of  all 
disregarded,  the  contempt  that  has  nncompanied  concessions,  the 
neglect  that  has  followed  devotion  and  self-sacrifice,  and  the  extra- 
ordinary  manner  the  just  claims  of  the  n-\eritorious  postponed  to 
parliamentary  support,  has  worked  a  change  in  the  feelings  of  the 
people,  that  the  Downing  street  officials  cannot  understand,  or 
surely  they  would  pursue  a  different  course.  They  want  to  hav.'> 
the  mirror  held  up  to  them. 

1  know  they  feel  sore  here  about  the  picture  my  mirror  gives 
them,  and  it's  natural  they  should,  especially  comin'  from  a  Yankee; 
and  they  call  me  a  great  bragger.  But  that's  nothin'  new  ;  doctors 
do  the  same  •  'hen  a  feller  cures  a  poor  wretch  they  have  squeezed 
like  a  sponge,  ruinated,  and  gin  up  as  past  hope.  They  sing  out 
quack.  But  I  don't  care  ;  I  have  a  right  to  brag  nationally  and  in- 
dividually, and  I'd  be  no  good  if  I  did  nt  take  my  own  part.  Now, 
though  I  say  it  that  shouldn't  say  it,  for  I  ain't  afraid  to  speak  out, 
the  sketches  1  send  you  are  from  life;  I  paint  things  as  you"  will  find 
them  and  know  them  to  be.  I'll  take  a  bet  of  a  hundred  dollars, 
ten  people  out  of   twelve  in  this  country,   will  recognize  J^rr^ 


HOLDING     UP     THE    MIRUOR. 


^48 


Boudrot  s  house  who  have  never  entered  it,  but  who  have  seen 
others  exactly  like  it,  and  will  saj,  "I  know  who  is  meant  by  Jerry 
and  his  daughter  and  wife ;  I  have  often  been  there  ;  it  is  at  Clare 
or  Arichat,  or  Pumnico,  or  some  such  place  or  another  "  ' 

Is  that  braggini  Not  a  bit ;  it's  only  the  naked  fact.  To  my 
mind,  thf-re  is  no  vally  in  a  sketch,  if  it  aint  true  to  nature.  We 
^.f^^l  .f""  ff  «^'"S^».^'0"t  f(,i  strange  people  or  strange  things  ; 
life  is  full  of  them.  There  is  qu  erer  things  happening  every  day 
than  an  author  can  imagine  for  the  life  of  him.  h  takes  a  great 
many  odd  people  to  make  a  world;  that'3  a  fact.  Now  if  I 
describe  a  house  that  has  an  old  hat  in  one  window,  and  a  pair  of 
trousers  m  another,  I  don't  stop  to  turn  glazier,  take  'em  out,  and 
put  whole  glass  in,  nor  make  a  garden  where  there  is  none,  and  put 
a  large  tree  in  the  foreground  for  effect ;  but  I  take  it  as  1  find  it, 
and  1  take  people  in  the  dress  I  find  'em  in,  and  if  I  set  'em  a  talkin' 
1  take  their  very  words  down.  Nothing  gives  you  a  right  idea  of 
a  country  and  its  people  like  that. 

There  is  always  some  interest  in  natur',  where  truly  depicted 
Minister  us-d  to  say  that  some  author  (I  think  he  said  it  was  dd  Dici 
tionary  Johnson)  remarked  that  the  life  of  any  man,  if  wrote  truly 
would  be  interesting.  I  think  so,  too;  for  every  man  has  a  story  of  his 
own,  adventures  of  his  own,  and  some  things  have  happened  to  him 
that  never  happened  to  9     ',ody  else.     People  here  abuse  me  for 
all  thit ;  they  say,  after  all  n.y  boastin'  I  don't  do  'em  justice.     But 
attar  you  and  I  are  dead  and  (/one,  and  things  have  been  changed 
as  It  IS  to  be  hoped  they  will,  some  day  or  another,  for  the  better' 
unless  they  are  like  their  Acadian  French  neighbors,  and  intend  to 
remain  just  as  they  are  for  two  hundred  and  fifty  vears,  then  these 
sketches  will  be  curious;  and,  as  they  are  as  true  to  life  as  a  Dutch 
picture.  It  will  be  interestin'  to  see  what  sort  of  folks  were  here 
m  18o4,  now  they  lived,  flnd  hcv  they  employed  themselves,  and 
so  on.  J    "u 

Now  it's  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago  since  Smollett  wrote 
but  his  men  and  women  were  taken  ^rom  real  life,  his  sailors  from 
the  navy,  his  attorneys  fro.a  the  jails  and  criminal  courts,  and  his 
fops  and  fine  ladies  from  the  herd  of  such  cattlo  that  he  daily  met 
with      VVeli,  they  are  read  now;  I  have  'em  to  home,  and  laugh 

aL  '1''''''''.ST%  ^^^'  because  natur  is  the  same  always. 
A  hough  we  didn't  live  a  hundred  years  ago,  we  can  see  how  the 
tolks  of  that  age  did  ;  and,  although  society  is  altered,  a  '  there 
are  no  Admiral  Benbows,  nor  Hawser  Trunnions,  and  folkd  don't 
travel  m  vans  with  canvas  covers,  or  wear  swords,  and  frequent 
taverns,  and  all  that,  as  they  used  to  did  to  Eni^l^ind  •  still  it's  a 
pictur  of  the  times,  and  instru  tin' as  well  as  limusin'r"l 'hive 
learned  more  how  folks  dressed,  talked,  and  lived,  and. thought,  and 
WJiat  sort  of  crittw's  they  were,  and  what  the  state  of  society,  hi^h 


244 


HOLDING     UP     THE     M  Hi  ROB. 


4^^ 


and  low,  was  then,  from  his  books  and  Fiolding's,  than  any  I  know 
of.     They  are  true  to  life,  and  ns  h.ng  as  natiT  remains  the  same 
which  it  always  will,  they  will  bo  read.     That's  my  idea  at  least.  ' 
Some  squearr.;^..  people  turn  up  the  whites  of  their  peepers  at 
both  those  authors,  and  s&y  they  are  coarse.     How  can  they  be 
otherwise  ?  society  was  coarse.     There  are  more  veils  worn  now, 
but  the  devil  still  lurks  in  the  eye  under  the  veil.     Things  ain't 
talked  of  so  openly,  or  done  so  openly  in  modern  as  in  old  tiniea. 
There  is  more  concealment;  and  concealment  is  called  delicacy. 
But  where  concealment  is,  the  passions  are  excited  by  the  difficuK 
ties  imposed  by  society.     Barriers  are  erected  too  high  to  scale,  but 
every  barrier  has  its  wicket,  its  latch   key,  and  its  private  door. 
Natur  is  natur  still,  and  there  is  as  much  of  that  that  is  condemned 
in  his  books,  now,  as  there  was  then.     There  is  a  horrid  sight  of 
hypocrisy  now,  more  than  there  was  one  hundred  years  ago ;  vice 
was  audacious  then,  and  scared  folks.     It  aint't  so  bold,  at  present 
as  it  used  to  did  to  be ;  but  if  it  is  forbid  to  enter  the  dravving-room| 
the  back  staircase  is  still  free.     Where  there  is  a  will  there  is  a 
way,  and  always  will  be.     I  hate  pretence,  and,  above  all,  mock 
modesty  ;  it's  a  bad  sign. 

I  knew  a  clergyman  to  home,  a  monstrous  pious  man,  and  so 
delicatf-mindcd,  he  altered  a  great  many  words  and  passages  in  the 
Church  Service,  he  said  he  couldn't  find  it  in  his  heart  to  read  them 
out  in  nieetin,  and  yet  that  fellow  '^^o  my  sartuin  knowledge  was  the 
greatest  scamp  in  private  life  I  eve>  '.new.  C  lucious  knows,  I  don't 
approbate  coarr  -  ^s,  it  shocks  me,  but  narvous  sensibility  makes  me 
sick.  I  like  to  call  things  by  their  right  names,  and  I  call  a  leg  a 
leg,  and  not  a  larger  limb,  a  shirt  a  shirt,  though  it  is  next  the  skin, 
and  not  a  linen  vestment,  and  a  stocking  a  stocking,  though  it  does 
reach  up  the  leg,  and  not  a  silk  hose;  and  a  garter  a  garter,  though 
it  is  above  the  calf,  and  not  an  elastic  band  or  a  hose  suspender. 
A  really  modest  tooman  was  never  squeamish.  Fastidiousness  is  tlh^ 
envelope  of  indelicacy.  To  see  harm  in  ordinary  words,  betrays  a 
knowledge  and  not  ignorance  of  evil. 

But  that  is  neither  here  nor  chere,  as  I  was  sayin,  when  you  are 
dead  and  gone,  these  journals  of  mine  which  you  have  edited, 
when  mellowed  by  time,  will  let  the  hercaftcr-to-be  Blue-noses,  see 
what  the  has  been  Nova  Scotians  here  from  '34  to  '54  were.  Now 
if  something  of  the  same  kind  had  been  done  when  Halifax  was 
first  settled  a  hundred  years  ago,  what  strange  coons  the  old  folks 
would  seem  to  us.  That  state  of  society  has" passed  away  as  well 
as  the  actors.  For  instance,  when  the  militia  was  embodied  to  do 
duty  so  late  as  the  Duke  of  Kent's  time,  Ensign  Lane's  name  was 
called  oil  parade.  '•  Not  here,"  said  Lieutenant  Grover,  "  he  is 
mending  Sargent  Street's  breeches." 

Many  a  queer  thing  occurred  then  that  would  make  a  queer 


noIDINO     UP     THE     MIRROR. 


245 


book,  [  assure  you.     There  is  much  that  is  chui  acteristio  both  to 
be  seen  and  heard  in  every  harbor  in  this  province,  tiia  right  way 
is  to  jot  all  down.     Every  place  has  its  standing  topic.    At  Wind- 
sor  it  is  the  gypsum  trade,  the  St.  John's  steamer,  the  Halifax 
coach,  and  a  new  house  that  is  building.     In  King's  County  its 
export  of  potatoes,  bullocks   and    horses.     At   Annapolis,    cord- 
wood,  oars,  staves,  shingles,  and  agricultural  produce  of  all  kinds. 
At  Digby,  smoked  herrings,  fish-weirs  and  St.  John  markers.     At 
Yarmo..th,  foreign  freights,  berthing,  rails,  C8«  '  .ads,  lower  cheeks, 
wooden  bolsters,  and  the  crown,  pp  n,  and  shank  of  anchors.     At 
Shelburne,  it  is  divided  between  bs..,  lumber,  and  the  price  of  ves- 
sels.    At  Liverpool,  ship-building,  deals  and  timber,  knees,  tran- 
sums  and  futtucks,  pintles,  keelsons,  and  moose  lines.     At  Lunen- 
burg, Jeddore  and  Chps  >      ^ok,  the  state  of  the  market  at  the 
capital.     At  the  other  harbors  further  to  the  eastward,  the  coal 
trade  and   the  fisheries  engross  most  of  the  conversation.     You 
h'ar  continually  of  the  fnll  run  and  the  spring  catch  of  mackerel 
that  set  in  but  don't  stop  tO  bait.     The  remarkable  discovery  of 
the  French  coasters,  that  was  made  fifly  years  ago,  and  still  is  as 
new  ai.  1  as  fresh  as  ever,  that  when  fish  are  plenty  there  is  no  salt, 
and  when  sr.lt  is  abundant  there  are  no  fish,  continually  startles 
you  with  its  novelty  and  importance.    While  /ou  are  both  amused 
and  instructed  by  learning  the  meaning  of  coal  cakes,  Albion  tops 
and  what  a  Chesencooker  delights  in,  "slack,"  you  also  find  out 
that  a  hundred  tou'  of  coal  at  Sydney,  means  when  it  reaches  Hali- 
fax one  hundred  ind  fifteen,  and  that  West  India,  Mediterranean 
and  Brazilian  fish  aiv.  actually  made  on  these  shores.     These  local 
topics  are  greatly  diversified  by  politics,  which  like  crowfoot  and 
\vh'  eweed,  abound  everywhere. 

Halifax  has  rll  sorts  of  talk.  Now  if  you  was  writin  and  not 
me,  you  would  have  to  call  it,  to  please  the  people,  that  flourishing 
great  capital  of  the  greatest  colony  of  Great  Britain,  the  town 
with  the  harbor,  as  you  say  of  a  feller  who  has  a  large  handle  to 
his  face,  the  man  with  the  nose,  that  place  that  is  destined  to  be 
the  (London)  of  America,  which  is  a  fact  if  it  ever  fulfils  its  destiny. 
The  little  scrubby  dwarf  spruces  on  the  coast  are  destined  not  to 
be  lofty  pines,  because  that  can't  bo  in  the  natur  of  things 
although  some  folks  talk  as  if  they  expected  it ;  but  they  are 
destined  to  be  enormous  trees,  and  although  they  havn't  grown  an 
inch  the  last  fifty  years,  who  can  tell  but  they  may  exceed  the 
expectations  that  hi.s  been  formed  of  them.  Yes,  you  would  have 
to  give  it  a  shove,  it  wants  it  bad  en.  ugh,  and  lay  it  on  thick  too, 
so  as  it  will  stick  for  one  season. 

It  reminds  me  of  a  Yankee  I  met  at  New  York  wunst ;  he  was 
disposin'  of  a  new  hydraulic  cement  he  had  invented.  Now, 
cements  either  to  resist  lire  or  water,  or  to  mend  the  most  delicate 


tim 


246 


HOLDING     UP     THE     MIRROR. 


ch^na,  or  to  stop  a  crack  iii  a  stove,  is  a  thing  I  rather  pride  myself 
on.  I  make  my  own  cement  always,  it  is  so  much  better  than  any 
I  can  buy. 

Sais  I,  "  what  are  your  ingredients  ?"  \ 

"  Yes,"  sais  he,  ''  tell  you  my  secrets,  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag 
for  you  to  catch  by  the  tail.  No,  no,"  sais  he,  "  excuse  me  if  you 
please." 

It  ryled  me  that,  so  I  just  steps  up  to  hin,  as  savage  as  a  meat- 
axe,  intendin'  to  throw  him  down  stairs,  w  en  the  feller  turned  as 
pale  as  a  rabbit's  belly,  I  vow  1  could  h;  .dly  help  laMghin,  so  I 
didn't  touch  him  at  all. 

"  But,"  sais  I,  "  you  and  the  cat  in  the  bag  may  run  to  Old  Nick, 
and  see  which  will  get  there  first,  and  say  tag— I  don't  want  the 
secret,  for  1  don't  believe  you  know  yourself.  If  1  was  to  see  a 
bit  of  the  cement,  and  break  it  up  myself,  I'd  tell  you  in  a  moment 
whether  it  was  good  for  anything." 

^  "  Weij,"  sais  he,  "I'll  tell  you;"  and  lie  gave  me  all  the  par. 
ticulars. 

Sais  I,  "  it's  no  good,  two  important  ingredients  are  wantin',  ard 
you  haven't  tempered  it  rigiit,  and  it  won't  stick." 

Sais  he,  "  I  guess  it  will  stick  till  I  leave  the  city,  and  that  will 
answer  me  and  my  eends." 

"No,"  sais  I,  "it  won't,  it  N^ill  ruin  you  forever,  and  injure  the 
reputation  <  Jonnecticut  aniOng  the  nations  of  the  airth.  Come  to 
me  when  I  i  urn  to  Slickville,  and  I  will  show  you  the  proper  thing 
in  use,  tested  by  experience,  in  tanks,  in  brick  and  stone  walls,  and 
m  a  small  furnace.  Give  me  two  thousand  dollars  fur  the  receipt, 
t:\ke  out  a  patent,  and  your  fortune  is  made." 

"  Well,"  sais  he,  "  1  will  if  it's  all  you  say,  for  there  is  a  great 
demand  for  the  article,  if  it's  only  the  true  Jeremiah." 

"  Don't  mind  what  I  say,"  said  I,  "  ask  it  what  it  says,  there  it 
is,  go  look  at  it." 

Well,  you  would  have  to  give  these  Haligonians  a  coat  of  Ahite- 
wash  that  would  stick  till  you  leave  the  town.  But  that's  your 
iffair  and  not  mine.  I  hold  the  mirror  truly,  and  don't  flatter. 
Now,  Halifax  is  a  sizable  place,  and  covers  a  good  deal  of  ground, 
it  is  most  as  large  as  a  piece  of  chalk,  which  will  give  a  stranger  a 
very  good  notion  of  it.  It  is  the  seat  of  government,  and  there  are 
some  very  important  officers  there,  judging  by  their  titles.  Ther^- 
are  a  receiver-general,  an  accountant-general,  an  attorney -general, 
a  solicitor-general,  a  commissary-general,  an  assistant  commissary- 
general,  the  general  in  command,  the  quartermaster-general,  the 
adjutant-gfueral,  the  yiear-gonoral^  Burrogate-general,  and  poslmas- 
ter-general.  His  excellency  the  governor,  and  his  excellency  the 
admirjil.  The  master  of  the  rolls,  their  lordships  the  judges,  the 
lord-bishop,  and  the  archbishop,  archdeacon,  secretary  fo.-  the  Horaa 


HOLDING     UP     THE     MIREOR. 


247 


department,  and  a  host  of  great  men,  with  the  handle  of  honorable 
to  their  names.  Mayors,  colonels,  and  captains,  whether  of  the 
regulars  or  the  militia,  they  don't  count  more  than  fore-cabin  pas- 
sengers, ft  ain't  considered  genteel  for  them  to  come  abaft  the 
paddle-wheel.  Indeed  the  quarter-deck  wouldn't  accommodate  so 
many.  Now,  there  is  the  same  marvel  about  this  small  town  that 
there  was  about  the  scholar's  head — 

"  And  still  the  wonder  grew, 
How  one  small  head  could  carry  all  he  knew." 

Well,  it  is  a  wonder  so  many  great  men  can  be  warm-clothed, 
bedded  down,  and  well  stalled  there,  ain't  it?  But  tuey  are,  and 
very  comfortably  too.  This  is  the  upper  crust,  now  the  under 
cnisfc  consists  of  lawyers,  doctors,  merchants,  army  and  navy  folks, 
small  officials,  articled  clerks,  and  so  on.  Well,  in  course  such  a 
town,  I  beg  pardon,  it  is  a  city,  (which  is  more  than  Liverpool  iu 
England  is,)  and  has  two  cathedral  churches,  with  so  many  grades, 
trades,  blades,  and  pretty  maids  in  it,  the  talk  must  be  various! 
The  military  talk  is  profess!. mal,  with  tender  reminiscences  of  home, 
and  some  llctle  boasting,  that  they  are  suffering  in  their  country's 
cause,  by  being  so  long  on  foreign  service  at  Halifax.  The  young 
sword-knots  that  have  just  joined  are  brim  full  of  ardor,  and  swear 
by  Jove  (the  young  heathens)  it  is  too  bad  to  be  shut  up  in  this 
vile  hole,  (youngsters,  take  my  advice,  and  don't  let  the  town's- 
pcoplc  hear  that,  or  they  will  lynch  you)  instead  of  going  to  Con- 
stantinople. 

"■  I  say,  Lennox,  wouldn't  that  be  jolly  work  ?" 

"  Great  work,"  says  Lennox,  "rum  coves  those  Turks  must  be 
ill  the  field,  eh  ?  The  Colonel  is  up  to  a  thing  or  two ;  if  he  was 
knocked  on  the  head,  there  would  be  such  promotion,  no  one  would 
lament  him,  but  his  dear  wife  and  five  lovely  daughters,  and  they 
would  bo  rcalli/  distressed  to  lose  him," 

He  don't  check  the  youthful  ardor,  on  the  contrary,  chimes  in, 
and  is  in  hopes  ho  can  make  interest  at  the  Horse-guards  for  the 
reginient  to  go  yei,  and  then  he  gives  a  wink  to  the  doctor,  who 
was  in  the  corps  when  he  was  a  boy,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  old  fel- 
low, you  and  1  have  seen  enough  of  the  pleasures  of  Ci:mpaigni)jg 
in  oi:r  day,  eh!  Doctor,  that  is  good  wine;  but  it's  getting  con- 
founded dear  lately;  I  don't  mind  it  myself,  but  it  makes  the 
expense  of  the  mess  fall  heavy  upon  the  youngsters."  The  jolly 
subs  look  across  the  table  and  wink,  for  thoy  know  that's  oil  bun- 
kuiii. 

"  Doctor,"  sais  a  new  hand,  "  do  you  know  if  Cargill  has  sold  his 
orses.     His  leada  is  a  cleverwish  saut  of  thing,  but  the  wheela  is  a 


ii{iigiiliiiiiih 


248 


HOLDING     UP     THE     MIRROR. 


riglar  bute.     That's  a  goodish  orse  the  Admewall  wides ;  I  wonder 
if  he  i.«  going  to  take  him  ome  with  him." 

«  Haven't  heard— can't  say.     Jones,  what's  that  thing  that  wont 

burn,  do  you  know  ?     Confound  the  thing,  I  have  got  it  on  the  tin 

of  ray  tongue  too."  ^ 

"  Asphalt,"  sais  Jones. 

,     "  No  !  that's  not  it ;  that's  what  wide-awakes  are  made  of."     , 

Perhaps  so,'  says  Gage,  ^' ass'felt  is  very  appropriate  for  a 

At  which  there  is  a  great  roar. 
"  No ;  but  really  what  is  it  ?" 

"  Is  it  arbutus  1"  sais  Simpkins,  "  I  think  they  make  it  at  Kil. 
larney — "  '' 

"No,  no;  oh!    I  have  it,  asbestos;  well,  that's  what  I  believe 

tUe  cigars  here  are  made  of— they  wont  go." 

'•  There  are  a  good  many  things  here  that  are  no  go,"  sais  Gage, 
like  Perry  s  bills  on  Coutts ;  but,  Smith,  where  did  you  get  tha 

flash  waistcoat  1  saw  last  night  ?" 

'' Oh  !  that  was  worked  by  a  poor  despairing  girl  at  Bath,  during 
a  lit  or  the  scarlet  fever.  'a 

"It  v^-as  a  memento  mori  then,  1  suppose,"  replies  the  other. 

But  all  the  talk  is  not  quite  so  frivolous.  Opposite  to  that  large 
s  one  edifice  is  an  old  cannon  standing  on  end  at  the  corner  of  the 
street,  to  keep  carriages  from  trespassing  on  the  pavement,  and  the 
non-niilitary  assemble  round  it;  they  are  civic  great  guns.  Thev 
are  discussing  the  great  event  of  the  season-the  vote  of  want  of 
confidence  of  last  night,  the  resignation  of  the  provincial  ministry 
this  morinng,  and  the  startling  lact  that  the  head  upholsterer  has 
been  sent  ior  to  furn.sn  a  new  cabinet,  that  wont  warp  with  the 

5^f  T.""!^  .  ^?ri*'  ^'  ''  very  important  news;  it  has  been  tele- 
graphed to  Washington,  and  was  considered  so  alarmin<r    the  Pre- 

and"li7'  "^  ^"^  ^"^  informed  of  it.     He  rubbell  his  eyes 

T  ^y^f'  ^  "'!\"?'.l^'|S^  ^^^  ^o^-n.  yo"  n^ay  take  my  hat.  I  hope 
I  may  be  cowhided  it  I  knew  they  had  a  ministry.  I  thought  they 
only  had  a  goyenior  and  a  regiment  for  a  constitution.     Will  it 

fvw  l^T^  ?l-  ^^''.  '^  ""'^^  ^"'^'^  the  Emperor  of  Rooshia. 
N  ont  it?  and  he  roared  so  loud  he  nearly  choked.  That  just 
shows  (everybody  regarcls  the  speaker  with  silence  fur  ho  is  an  Ora- 
cle )  says  Omniscient  Pm,  that  just  shows  how  little  the  Yankees 
know  and  how  litt  e  the  English  care  about  us.  "  \i'  we  want  to 
be  indepindent  and  respictable,"  sais  an  Hibernian  mngnate,  "we 

S   1!^'?  '^"  ^'"""-    .    ^'t  T^''''  i«  th^«'l^^^'-«  i«  a  fell,,;  tied 
nand  «nu  .GO.  on  a  irucK,  which  is  conveying  him  to  the  police 

alilhatT'''''"^'  screaming  horribly.     What  is  the  meaning  of 


HOLDING     UP    THE    MIRROR. 


249 


wides ;  I  wonder 


make  it  at  Kil- 
I  what  I  believe 


inngnate,  "  we 


A  httle  cynical  old  man,  commonly  called  the  major,  looks 
knowing  puts  on  a  quizzical  expression/and  touching  his-'no  e  with 
the  tip  of  h.s  finger  says,  "One  of  the' new  magistrates  quaHfring 
as  he  goes  down  to  be  sworn  into  office."  luaiuying 

It  makes  the  politicians  smile,  restores  their  equanimity  and 
they  make  room  for  another  committee  of  safety.  A  liule^ower 
down  the  street,  a  mail-coach  is  starting  fur  Windsor,  and  ten  or  fif 
teen  men  are  assembled  doing  their  utmost,  and  twenty  or  thirtt 
boys  he  ping  them,  to  look  at  the  passengers ;  but  are^unexpect 

neaii  or  a  marching  regiment. 

fh^rlZI"'^  '^'  ^^'  ,*^°"^^^-     ^  ^^'^'^  "^^^^  the  bar-room,  though 

hotel  h,f  f  ^"^,^°^g'•^^n  «»e«.  in  that  bar-room  it  the  big 
f..l  ov^  I  r""  the  lawyers.     They  are  the  merriest  and  best 

feJlo^vs  everywhere.     They  fight  like  prize-boxers  in  public  and  be 

oZ       PrZf^'  '"^  f.''"  ^""^^  ^^^"  '^'^y  «et  t«  -"d  after  it's 
over.      Preachers,  on  the  contrary,   write  anonymous  letters  in 
newspapers  or  let  fly  pamphlets  at  each  other  and  call  ugly  names 
vVhiie  doctors  go  from  house  to  house  insinuating,  undemlg 

k^^  wXn  IV  !""'"  "^to  the  world,  at  each  other's  prescrip- 
tions. We  1,  politicians  are  dirty  birds  too  ;  they  get  up  all  sorls 
of  lies   against  each  other,  and  if  any  one  lays  an  egg   tother 

hese  tricks.     As  soon  as  court  is  ended,  off  they  go  arm-in-arm 
as  If  they  had  both  been  fighting  on  one  side,     '^'l  say,  B lowem 

t'  Tf'th:  r"f  -^^^.^^  ^"""'  "^^'""S  °^^  ^--^y  s/ear  hT^as 
King  ot  the  mountains. 

ooul^.'^f  1.^5  ''\^''''i  as  yours.   Monk,  telling  the  witness  he 

hwP      ^  1    f  ?"'';'  ^^'  ^''^  P^*'^'"<^^^  h^^  P"t  in  all  the  '  stock  in 
hand    and  he  had  only  put  in  his  '  stock  in  feet.'  " 

the  ci^cuiS^"^^  ""^  ^^""''^^  ^'''''  *'''^^''  ""^  '""^^^  '"'  '"'''""'  I^^^^^*^  "P  ^" 

"Jones,  do  you  know  McFarlane  of  Barney's  River,  a  Presby. 

emn  clergyman  ?.    He  told  me  he  was  once  in  a  remote  district 

sl7Zr?P'^  T  IT"''"  ^"t^  f'^  ^''""'  ^"^  ^^«'t'"g  the  house  of  a 

u  f  w  11  ^'^''''''^^  ^^  ^'^g''^"  to  examine  the  children, 

nf  a  T.        '/'Y  "'^"'.'  '^'"^  h^'  Pitting  on  the  shoulder  a  stout  junk 
Ih/chS^  :nd  of  ma^r  ^"  ^"^'"^  ^'  ^'^^'  '  ^^'^  ^'^"  ^^"  -^  ^'^^^  is 
u '  Yes,  Sir,'  said  he.     '  To  pile  and  burn  brush.'* 
iNo,  It  aint,'  said  his  sister. 

vcnien"t  S  ffrr^'lr  "'^'  f''  *^'  ^-I"!"  ^''^  "^°PP'^'^  •^°^^"  ""^  ^"t  into  con- 
vcnient  sizes  for  handling,  they  are  pile3  into  heaps  and  burned. 

11* 


iri!<i^i«Mawwfw»g 


250 


HOLDING     UP    THE     MIRROR. 


i* 


" '  Oh  bul  it  is  though,'  replied  the  boy,  ♦  for  father  told  me  so 
himself. 

"  'No,  no,'  said  the  minister,  *  it's  not  that ;  but  perhaps,  my 
dear,  addressuig  the  girl,  « you  can  tell  me  what  it  is  ? ' 

" '  Oh,  yes,  Sir,'  said  she,  '  J  can  tell  you,  and  so  could  John  but 
he  never  will  think  before  he  speaks.' 

"'Well,  what  is  it,  dear?' 

" ']^^/'  ^^T  ^^-^^  ^^^  °^  ™^"'  '^'^'  ^^  ^'^  ^®^^  ^"^  shoulders.' 
Oh,  said  a  little  lassie  that  was  listening  to  the  conversation 

if  you  know  all  these  things.  Sir,  can  you  tell  me  if  Noah  had  any 
butterflies  in  the  ark  1  1  wonder  how  in  the  world  he  ever  got 
hold  of  them !  Many  and  many  a  beautv  have  I  chased  all  day,  and 
1  never  could  catch  one  yet.'  " 

"  1  can  tel .  you  a  better  one  than  that,"  says  Larry  Hilliard 

Do  you  recollect  old  Hardwood,  our  under-sheriff?  He  has  a 
very  beautiful  daughter,  and  she  was  married  last  week  at  St 
Faul  s  Church,  to  a  lieutenant  in  the  navy.  There  was  such  an  im- 
mense crowd  present  (for  they  were  considered  the  handsomest 
couple  ever  married  there)  that  she  got  so  confused  she  could 
hard  y  get  through  the  responses.      When   the  archdeacon  said, 

VViU  you  have  this  man  to  be  your  wedded  husband  ?' 
"  '  Yes,'  she  said,  and  made  a  slight  pause,  and  then  became  be- 
wildered and  got  into  her  catechism.     '  Yes,'  she  said,  '  By  God's 
grace  I  will,  and  I  humbly  thank  my  Heavenly  Father  fur  having 
brought  me  to  this  state  of  salvation.' 

^  "  It  was  lucky  she  spoke  low,  and  that  the  people  didn't  dis- 
tinctly  hear  her,  but  it  nearly  choaked  the  parson." 

"  Talking  of  church  anecdotes,"  says  Lawyer  Martin,  "  reminds 
me  of  old  Parson  Byles,  of  St.  John's,  New  Brunswick.  Before 
the  American  rebellion,  he  was  rector  at  Boston,  and  he  had  a  cu- 
rate  who  always  preached  against  the  Roman  Catholics.  It  tickled 
the  1  uritans,  but  didn't  injure  the  Papists,  for  there  were  none 
there  at  that  time.  Tor  three  successive  Sundavs  he  expounded 
the  text,  '  And  Peter's  wife's  mother  lay  ill  of  a  fever.' 

From  which  he  inferred  priests  ought  to  marry.  Shortly  after 
that  the  bell  was  tolling,  and  somebody  asked  Dr.  Byles  who  was 
dead  1  '' 

''Says  he,  and  he  looked  solemcoly,  shut  one  eye  and  winked 
with  the  other,  as  if  he  was  trying  to  shut  that  also  :  '  I  rather 
think  It  is  Peter's  wife's  mother,  for  she  has  been  ill  of  a  fever  for 
three  weeks.' " 

There  are  charms  in  these  little  "home  scenes,"  these  little 
detached  sketches  which  are  wholly  lost  in  a  large  landscape. 

Theie  is  one  very  redeeming  property  about  the'  people. 
Although  they  differ  widely  in  politics,  I  infer  that  they  live  in  the 
greatest  possible  harmony  together,  from  the  fact  that  they  speak 


HOLDING     UP    THE     MIBBOR, 


;261 


ither  told  me  so 


could  John,  but 


2ople  didn't  dis- 


of  each  other  like  members  of  the  same  family.  The  word  Mr.  is 
laid  aside  as  too  cold  and  formal,  and  the  whole  Christian  name  as 
too  ceremonious.  Their  most  distinguished  men  speak  of  each 
other,  (and  the  public  follow  their  example,)  as  Joe  A,  or  Jim  B, 
or  Bill  C,  or  Tom  D,  or  Fitz  this,  or  Dick  that.  It  sounds  odd  to 
stningers,  no  doubt ;  but  the  inference  that  may  be  drawn  from  it, 
is  one  of  great  amiability. 

Still,  in  holding  up  the  mirror,  hold  it  up  fairly,  and  take  in  all 
the  groups,  and  not  merely  those  that  excite  ridicule.  Halifex  has 
more  real  substantial  wealth  about  it  than  any  place  of  its  size  in 
xmerica — wealth  not  amassed  by  reckless  speculation,  but  by 
judicious  enterprise,  persevering  industj^y,  and  consistent  economy. 
In  like  manner,  there  is  better  society  in  it  than  in  any  similar 
American  or  colonial  town.  A  man  must  know  the  people  to  ap- 
preciate them.  He  must  not  merely  judge  by  those  whom  he  is 
accustomed  to  meet  at  the  social  board,  for  they  are  not  always 
the  best  specimens  anywhere ;  but  by  those  also  who  prefer  retire- 
ment, and  a  narrower  circle,  and  rather  avoid  general  society,  as 
not  suited  to  their  tastes.  The  character  of  its  mercantile  men 
stands  very  high,  and  those  that  are  engaged  in  professional  pur- 
suits are  distinguished  for  their  ability  and  integrity.  In  short,  as 
a  colonist,  Squire,  you  may  at  least  be  satisfied  to  hear  from  a 
stranger  like  me,  that  they  contrast  so  favorably  with  those  who 
are  sent  officially  among  them  from  England,  that  they  need  not  be 
ashamed  to  see  themselves  grouped  with  the  best  of  them,  in  the 
same  mirror. 

Yes,  yes.  Squire,  every  place  has  its  queer  people,  queer  ^alk, 
and  queer  grouping.  I  draw  what  is  befors  me  and  1  can't  go 
wrong.  Now,  if  the  sketcher  introduces  his  own  person  into  his 
f  )regrounds,  and  I  guess  I  figure  in  all  mine  as  large  as  life,  (for 
like  a  respectable  man  I  never  forget  myself,)  he  must  take  care 
he  has  a  good  likeness  of  his  skuldiferous  head,  as  well  as  a  flattering 
one.  Now,  you  may  call  it  crackin  and  braggin,  and  all  that  sort 
of  a  thing,  if  you  please,  but  I  st  say,  I  allow  that  I  look,  sit, 
walk,  stand,  eat,  drink,  smoke,  tu.uK,  and  talk,  aye  and  brag  too, 
like  a  Yankee  clockmaker,  don't  youl  Yes,  there  is  a  decided  and 
manifest  improvement  in  the  appearance  of  this  province.  When 
I  say  the  province,  I  don't  refer  to  HaliAix  alone,  though  there  are 
folks  there,  that  thinlc  it  stands  for  and  represents  the  whole  colony. 
1  mean  what  I  say  in  using  that  expression,  which  extends  to  the 
country  at  large — and  1  am  glad  to  see  this  change,  for  1  like  it. 
And,  there  is  a  still  more  decided  and  manifest  improvement  in  the 
people,  and  I  am  glad  of  that  too,  for  I  like  them  also.  Now,  I'll 
leli  you  one  great  reason  of  this  alteration  Blue-nose  has  seen 
himself  as  other  folks  see  him,  he  has  had  "  the  mirror  held  up  to 
him,]^ 


252 


THE    BUNDLE     OF    STICKS. 


in 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE    BUNDLE    OP   STICKS. 

I  HAD  hardly  entered  these  remarks  in  my  Journal,  and  ascended 
the  companion-ladder,  when  the  Doctor  joined  me  in  my  quarter 
deck  walk,  and  said,  "Mr.  Slick,  what  is  your  opinion  of  the  state 
of  these  North  American  colonies." 

What  a  curious  thing  these  coincidences  are.  Squire,  aint  they? 
How  often  when  you  are  speaking  of  a  man,  he  unexpectedly  makes 
his  appearance,  don't  he  ?  or  if  you  are  thinking  of  a  subject  the 
person  who  is  with  you  starts  the  same  topic,  or  if  you  are  a  g'oinrr 
to  say  a  thmg,  he  takes  as  we  say  the  very  words  out  of  your 
mouth.  It  is  something  more  than  accident  that,  but  what  is  it? 
Is  It  animal  magnetism,  or  what  is  it  ?  Well,  I  leave  you  to  answer 
that  question,  for  I  can't. 

"Their  growth  beats  all.  Ihe  v/ay  they  are  going  ahead  is  a 
caution  to  tliem  that  live  in  Sleepy  H.)llow,  a  quiet  little  place  the 
ILnglish  call  Downing  Street.  It  astonishes  them  as  a  young  turkey 
does  a  hen  that  has  hatched  it,  thinking  it  was  a  chicken  of  her  own 
bhe  don  t  know  what  in  the  world  to  make  of  the  great  loncr-le-med" 
long-bodied  crittur,  that  is  six  times  as  large  as  herself,''tha?has 
cheeks  as  red  as  if  it  drank  brandy,  an  imperial  as  large  as  a  Rug- 
sian  dragoon,  eats  all  the  food  of  the  poultry-yard,  takes  a  shockinc 
sight  of  nursmg  when  it  is  young,  and  gets  as  sarcy  as  the  devil 
when  It  grows  up." 

"  Yes,]'  said  he,  "  I  am  aware  of  its  growth :  but  what  do  you 
<uppose  IS  the  destiny  of  British  North  America  "i" 

''Oh,"saisI,"I  could  tell  you  if  I  was  Colonial  minister,  be- 
cause I  should  then  have  the  power  to  guide  that  destiny.  I  know 
full  well  what  ought  to  be  done,  and  the  importance  of  doincr  it 
Doon^  but  1  am  not  in  the  position  to  give  them  the  right  direction. 
iNo  Jinglish  statesmen  have  the  information,  the  time,  or  the  incli- 
nation  to  meddle  with  the  subject.  To  get  rid  of  the  bother  of 
them,  they  have  .•'ven  up  all  control  and  said  to  them,  'there  is 
responsible  government  for  you,  now  tortle  off  hum,  and  manage 
your  own  affairs.'  Yes,  yes,  so  far  so  good— they  can  manage  their 
own  domestic  matters,  but  who  is  to  manage  their  foreign  aifairs  as 
1  said  wunst  to  a  member  of  parliament.  They  have  outgrown 
colonial  dependence ;  their  minority  is  ended ;  their  clerkship  is 
out;  they  are  of  age  now;  they  never  did   well   in   your  house; 

.  -,1.,  ^  ,  ,,„^.  .,^  j.:^.;3c  jii.  a,  uiaLuuce  j  iney  haa  iheir  scliooiiug: 
they  learnt  figures  early;  they  can  add  and  multiply  faster  than 
you  can,  to  save  your  soul ;  and  now  they  are  uneasy.     They  have 


THE    BUNDLE     OP    STICKS. 


253 


your  name,  for  they  are  your  children,  but  they  are  younger  sons. 
Ihe  estate  and  aJi  the  honors  go  to  the  eldest,  who  resides  at  home 
They  know  but  little  abo  jt  their  parents,  farther  than  that  their 
bills  have  been  liberally  paid,  but  they  have  no  personal  acquain- 
tance  with  you.  You  are  tired  of  maintaining  them,  and  they  have 
too  much  pride  and  too  much  energy  to  continue  to  be  a  burden  to 
you.     They  can  and  they  will  do  for  themselves. 

'<  Have  you  ever  thought  of  setting  them  up  in  business  on  their 
own  account,  or  of  taking  them  into  partnership  with  yourself?  In 
the  course  of  nature  they  must  form  some  connexion  soon.     Shall 
they  seek  it  with  you  or  the  States,  or  intermarry  among  them- 
selves,  and  begin  the  world  on  their  own  hook  ?     These  are  impor- 
tant  questions,  and  they  must  be  answered  soon.     Have  you  ac- 
quired their  confidence  and  affection  1     What  has  been  your  manner 
to  them?     Do  you  treat  them  like  your  other  younger  children 
that  remain  at  home  ?     Them  you  put  into  your  army  and  navy 
place  a  sword  in  their  hands  and  say,  distinguish  yourselves,  and 
the  highest  rewards  are  open  to  you,  or  you  send   them  to  the 
church  or  the  bar,  and  say  a  mitre  or  a  coronet  shall  be  the  prize 
to  contend  for.     If  you  prefer  diplomacy,  you  shall  be  attache  to 
your  elder  brother.     I  will  place  the  ladder  before  you  ;  ascend  it. 
If  you  like  politics,  I  will  place  you  in  parliament,  and  if  you  have 
not  talents  sufficient  for  the  House  of  Commons,  you  shall  go  out 
as  governor  of  one  of  our  colonies.     Those  appointments  belong  of 
right  to  them,  but  they  canH  help  themselves  at  present.     Get  one 
while  you  can. 

"  Have  you  done  this,  or  anything  like  it  for  3;our  children 
abroad  ?  If  you  have,  perhaps  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  furnish 
me  with  some  names  that  I  may  mention  them  when  I  hear  you 
accused  of  neglect.  You  are  very  hospitable,  and  very  considerate 
to  strangers.  The  representative  of  any  little  insignificant  German 
state,  of  the  size  of  a  Canadian  township,  has  a  place  assigned  him 
on  state  occasions.  Do  you  ever  shew  the  same  attention  to  the 
delegate  of  a  colony,  of  infinitely  more  extent  and  value  than  even 
Ireland !  There  can't  be  a  doubt  you  have,  though  I  have  never 
heard  of  it.  Such  little  trifles  are  matters  of  course,  bat  still  as 
great  interests  are  at  stake,  perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  to  notice 
such  things  occisionally  in  the  Gazette,  for  distant  and  humble 
relations  are  ah/ays  touchy. 

"  Ah,  Doctor,"  said  I,  "  thiiigs  can't  and  won't  remain  long  as 
they  are.  England  has  three  things  among  which  to  choose,  for  her 
North  American  colonies:— First:  Incorporation  with  herself,  and 
representation  in  Parliament.  Secondly :  Independence.  Thirdly : 
Annexation  with  the  States.  Instead  oY  deliberating  and  selecting 
whiit,  will  be  most  conducive  to  the  interest  of  herself  and  her 
dependencies,  she  is  allowing  things  to  take  their  chance.     Now, 


254 


THE    BUNDLE     OP    STICKS. 


1 

1 

i 

1 

[1 

this  is  all  very  well  in  matters  over  which  we  have  no  control,  hb, 
cause,  Providence  directs  things  better  than  wc  can ;  but  if  one  of 
these  three  alternatives  is  infinitely  better  than  the  other,  and  it  is 
in  our  power  to  adopt  ir,  it  is  the  height  of  folly  not  to  do  so.  1  know 
it  is  said,  for  I  have  often  heard  it  myself,  why  we  can  but  lose  the 
colonies  at  last.  Pardon  me,  yon  can  do  more  than  that,  for  you 
can  lose  their  affections  also.  If  the  partnership  is  to  be  dissolved 
it  had  better  be  done  by  mutual  consent,  and  it  would  bo  for  the 
interest  of  both  that  you  should  part  friends.  You  didn't  shako 
hands  with,  but  fists  at  us,  when  we  separated.  We  had  a  stand- 
up  fight,  and  you  got  licked,  and  wounds  were  given,  that  the  best 
part  of  a  century  hasn't  healed,  and  wounds  that  will  leave  tender 
spots  for  ever,  so  don't  talk  nonsense. 

"  Now,  Doctor,  mark  my  words.  I  say  again,  things  won't 
remain  long  as  they  are.  I  am.  glad  I  have  you  to  talk  to  instead 
of  the  Squire,  for  he  always  sals,  I  am  chockfull  of  crotchets,  and 
brim  full  of  brag.  Now,  it  is  easy,  we  all  know,  to  prophecy  a 
thing  after  it  has  happened,  but  if  1  foretell  a  thing  and  it  comes 
out  true,  if  I  haven't  a  right  to  brag  of  my  skill,  I  have  a  right  to 
boast  that  I  guessed  right  at  all  events.  Now,  when  I  set  on  foot 
a  scheme  for  carrying  the  Atlantic  mail  in  steamers,  and  calculated 
all  the  distances  and  chances,  and  shewed  them  Bristol  folks,  (fur 
I  went  to  that  place  on  purpose,)  that  it  was  shorter  by  thirty-six 
miles  to  come  to  Halifax,  and  then  go  to  New  York,  than  to  go  to 
New  York  direct,  they  just  laughed  at  me,  and  so  did  the  English 
Government.  They  said  it  couldn't  be  shorter  in  the  nature  of 
things.  The/e  was  a  captain  in  the  navy  to  Loudon  too,  who  said, 
'  Mr.  Slick,  you  are  wrong,  and  I  think  1  ought  to  know  something 
about  it,'  giving  a  toss  of  his  head.  '  Well,'  sais  I,  with  another 
toss  of  mine,  '  I  think  you  ought  too,  and  I  am  sorrv  you  don't, 
that's  all.'  J  J  > 

"  Then  the  Squire,  said :— '  Why  how  you  talk,  Mr.  Slick ! 
Recollect,  if  you  please,  that  Doctor  Lardncr  says  that  steam  won't 
do  to  cross  the  Atlantic,  and  he  is  a  great  gun.' 

'' '  Well,'  sais  1,  '  I  don't  care  a  fig  fur  what  Lardner  says,  or  any 
other  locomotive  lecturer  under  the  light  of  the  living  sun.  If  a 
steamer,  can  go  agin  a  stream,  and  a  plaguy  strong  one  too,  two 
thousand  five  hundred  miles  up  the  Mississippi,  why  in  natur,  can't 
it  be  fixed  so  as  go  across  the  Atlantic' 

_  "  Well,  some  time  after  that,  my  second  Clockmaker  came  out 
m  London,  and  sais  I,  I'll  stand  or  fall  by  my  opinion,  right  or 
wrong,  and  I  just  put  it  body  and  breeches  all  down  in  figures  in 
that  book.  Well,  that  set  inquiries  on  foot,  folks  began  to 
u"  "a"' ~"  ''-"^'^"^  "^=  iiiauu  jiiiu  accepted,  and  now  steam  across 
the  Atlantic  is  a  fixed  fact,  and  an  old  story.  Our  folks  warn't 
over  pleased  about  it,  they  consaited  I  should  have  told  them  first, 


THE    BUNDLE    OF     BTI0K8. 


265 


SO  they  might  have  taken  the  lead  in  it,  as  they  like  to  go  ahead 
of  the  British  in  all  things,  and  1  wish  to  goodness  1  had,  for  thanks 
are  better  nor  jeers  at  any  time. 

"  Well,  I  was  right  there,  you  see.  So  on  this  subject,  I  have 
told  Squire,  and  them  who  ought  to  know  something  of" the  colonics 
ihey  rule,  over  and  over  again,  and  warned  government  that  e- 
ihing  was  wanting  to  place  these  provinces  on  a  proper  permai.v..it 
footing ;  that  I  knew  the  temper  of  colony  folks  better  than  they 
did,  and  you  will  find  in  my  Journals  the  subjeco  often  mentioned. 
But  no,  !i  debate  on  a  beer  bill,  or  a  metropolitan  bridge,  or  a 
constabulary  act,  is  so  pressing,  there  is  no  time.  Well,  sure 
enough,  that's  all  come  true.  First,  the  Canadian  league  started 
up,  it  war,  a  feverish  symptom,  and  it  subsided  by  good  treatment, 
without  letting  blood.  Last  winter  it  was  debated  in  the  Lcgisla- 
Un-e  here,  and  the  best  and  ablest  speeches  made  on  it,  ever  heard 
in  British  America,  and  infinitely  superior  to  the  great  majority  of 
those  uttered  in  the  House  of  Commons.*  Do  you  suppose  for  a 
!iioment  that  proud-spirited,  independent,  .^le  men  like  thos3 
members,  will  long  endure  the  control  of  a  Colonial  minister,  who, 
they  feel,  is  as  much  below  them  in  talent,  as  by  accident  he  may 
be  above  them  in  rank  ?  No,  Sir,  the  day  is  past.  The  form  of 
provincial  government  is  changed,  and  with  it  provincial  dependence 
also.  ^    When  we  become  men,  we  must  pui  aioay  childish  things. 

"There  is  a  sense  of  soreness  that  is  uncomfortably  felt  by  a 
colonist  now  when  he  surveys  our  condition,  and  that  of  English- 
men, and  compares  his  own  with  it.  He  can  hardly  tell  you  what 
he  wants,  he  has  yet  no  definite  plan ;  but  he  desires  something 
that  will  place  him  on  a  perfect  equality  with  either.  When  I  was 
in  Europe  lately,  I  spent  a  day  at  Richmond,  with  one  of  them  I 
had  known  out  in  America.  He  was  a  Tory,  too,  and  a  pretty 
staunch  one,  I  tell  you. 

"  Thinks  1  to  myself,  '  I'll  put  you  through  your  paces  a  little, 
my  young  sucking  Washington,  for  fear  you  will  get  out  of  practice 
when  you  get  back.'  ' 

"  So,  sais  f,  '  how  do  you  get  on  now  ?  I  suppose  responsible 
government  has  put  an  end  to  all  complaints,  hain't  it?' 

"  Sais  he,  '  Mr.  Slick,'  and  I  saw  he  felt  sore,  for  he  looked  like 
it,  and  talked  like  it;  'Mr.  Slick,' said  he,  kinder  niblin  at  the 
question,  '  I  have  no  remonstrance  to  make.  There  is  something 
very  repulsive  in  a  complaint.  I  can't  bear  the  sound  of  it  my- 
self.  It  should  never  be  pronounced,  but  in  the  ear  of  a  doctor  or 
a  police  magistrate.     Your  man  with  a  grievance  is  everywhere 

*  All  these  speeches  are  well  worth  reading,  especially  those  of  Mr.  Howe, 
Mr.  Johnston,  and  Mr.  M.  Wilkins.  That  of  the  former  gentleman  is  incompa- 
rably  superior  to  any  one  delivered  during  the  last  session  of  the  Imperial 
Parliament. 


I     ^'       .'^ 


266 


THE     BUNDLE     OP    STICKS. 


voted  a  boie.  If  he  goes  to  the  Colonial  office  \v.th  one  that 
stout  gentlemen  at  the  door,  the  porter,  who  has  the  keys  of  that 
realm  of  knowledge  and  bliss,  and  knows  as  much,  and  hay  as  many 
airs  as  his  master,  soon  receives  an  order  not  to  admit  him. 

"  '  Worn  out  with  fatigue  and  disappointment,  the  unfortunate 
suitor  finds  at  last  his  original  grievance  merged  in  the  greater  one 
thai  he  can  obtain  no  hearing  and  no  redress,  and  he  returns  to  his 
own  province,  like  Franklin,  or  the  Australian  delegate,  with 
thoughts  of  deep  revenge,  and  visions  of  a  glorious  revolution  that 
sliall  set  his  countrymen  free  from  foreign  dominion.  He  goes  -m 
humble  suppliant,  he  returns  an  implacable  rebel.  The  restless 
1  ole,  who  would  rather  play  the  part  of  a  freebooting  officer,  than 
an  honest  farmer,  and  who  prefers  even  begging  to  labor,  wanders 
over  Europe  and  America,  uttering  execrations  against  all  men- 
archs  in  general,  and  his  own  in  particular,  and  when  you  shake 
your  head  at  his  oa-told  tale  of  fictitious  patriotism,  as  he  replaces 
his  stereotyped  memorial  in  his  pocket,  exhibits  the  handle  of  a 
stiletto,  with  a  savage  smile  of  unmistakeable  scoundrelism  ' 

"  '£oles  loom  large,'  sais  I,  '  in  the  fogs  of  London,  but  they 
dwindle  into  poor  sticks  with  us.' 

'  r  i"?®  y''^^^"  "'^  temper,  however,  to  laugh.  It  was  evident  he 
ielt  deeply,  but  ho  Avas  unwilling  to  exhibit  the  tender  spot  '  The 
world.  Sir,'  he  said,  '  is  full  of  grievances.  Papineau's  parliament 
mustered  ninety-two  of  them  at  one  time,  and  a  Falmouth  packet- 
ship  actually  foundereu  with  its  shifting  cargo.  What  a  pity  it  is 
that  their  worthlessness,  and  lightness,  alone  caused  them  to  float. 
Ihe  Jinglish,  who  reverse  every  wholesome  maxim,  in  this  instance 
pursued  their  usual  course.  The  sage  advice  parcere  suhjectu,  et 
debelare  superbos,  was  disregf.rded.  The  loyalists  suffered,  the  arro- 
gant and  turbulent  triumphed.  Every  house.  Sir,  in  the  kincrdom 
is  infested  with  grievances.  Fathers  grieve  over  the  extravagances 
ot  their  sons,  the  giddiness  of  their  daughters,  and  the  ceaseless 
murmurs  of  their  wives,  while  they  in  their  turn  unite  in  complain- 
ing  of  parental  parsimony  and  meanness.  Social  intercourse  I  have 
long  since  given  up,  for  I  am  tired  of  tedious  narratives  of  the  de- 
linquencies of  servants  and  the  degeneracy  of  the  times.  I  prefer 
large  parties,  where,  although  you  know  the  smile  hides  the  peevish 
temper,  the  aching  heart,  the  jealous  fear,  and  the  wounded  pride; 
yet  it  is  such  a  great  satisfaction  to  know  there  is  a  truce  to  com- 
plaints,  that  I  prefer  its  many  falsehoods  to  unceasing  wailin^s  over 
the  sad  realities  of  life.'  '^ 

"  This  was  no  answer,  but  something  to  bluff  me  off.  I  saw  he 
was  unwilling  to  speak  out,  and  that  it  was  a  mere  effort  to  button 
up  and  evade  the  subject.     So  to  draw  him  out,  I  said, 

"  '  Well,  there  is  one  thing  you  can  boast,  Canada  is  the  most 
valuable  and  beautiful  appendage  of  the  British  Crown.' 


THE     BUNDi;.E    OF    STICKS. 


257 


« *  England  may  boast  of  it  as  such,'  he  said,  '  but  I  have  no  right 
to  do  so.     I  prefer  being  one  of  the  pariahs  of  the  empire,  a  mere 
colonist,  having  neither  grade  nor  caste,  without  a  country  of  my 
own,  and  without  nationality.     I  am  an  humble  man,  and  when  I 
am  asked  where  I  come  from,  readily  answer  the  Chaudiere  River. 
Where  is  that  ?     Out  of  the  world  ?     Extra  Jlumantla  limina  mundi. 
What  13  the  name  of  your  country  ?     It  is  not  a  country,  it  is  only 
a  place.     It  is  better  to  have  no  flag  than  a  borrowed  one.     If  1 
had  one  i  should  have  to  defend  it.     If  it  were  wrested  from  me  I 
should  be  disgraced,  while  mj   victorious  enemy  would  be  thanked 
by  the  Imperial  legislature,  and  rewarded  by  his  sovereign.     If  I 
were  triumphant,  the  aflTair  would  be  deemed  too  small  to  merit  a 
notice  in  the  Gazette.     He  who  called  out  the  militia  and  quelled 
amid  a  shower  of  balls,  the  late  rebellion,  was  knighted.     He  who 
assented  amid  a  shower  of  eg(/s  to  a  bill  to  indemnity  the  rebels, 
was  created  an  earl.     Now  to  pelt  a  governor goneral  with  eggs,  is 
an  overt  act  of  treason,  for  it  is  an  attempt  to  throw  off  the  yoke. 
If,  therefore,  he  was  advanced  in  the  peerage  for  remunerating 
traitors  for  their  losses,  he  ought  now  to  assent  to  another  act  for 
reimbursing  the  expenses  of  the  exhausted  stores  of  the  poultry 
yards,  and  be  made  a  marquis,  unless  the  British  see  a  difference 
between  a  rebel  mob,  and  an  indignant  crowd,  between  those  whose 
life  has  been  spent  in  hatching  mischief,  and  those  who  desired  to 
scarce  the  foul  birds  from  their  nests. 

"  '  If  thai  man  had  been  a  colonist,  the  dispatch  marked  '  private* 
would  have  said,  '  It  sarved  you  right,'  whereas  it  announced  to 
him,  '  you  are  one  of  us,'  and  to  mark  our  approbation  of  your 
conduct,  you  may  add  one  of  these  savory  missiles  to  your  coat  of 
arms,  that  others  may  be  efff/ed  en  to  do  their  diitv .  Indeed  we 
couldn't  well  have  a  flag  of  our  own.  The  Americans  have  a  very 
appropriate  and  elegant  one,  containing  stripes  emlbematical  of 
their  slaves,  and  stars  to  represent  their  free  states,  while  a  Con- 
necticut goose  typifies  the  good  cheer  of  thanksgiving  day.  It  is 
true  we  have  the  honor  of  fighting  under  that  of  England  ;  but 
tutre  is,  as  we  have  seen,  this  liard  condition  annexed  to  it,  we  must 
consent  to  be  taxed,  to  reimburse  the  losses  of  those  whom  by  our 
gallantry  we  subdue.  If  we  take  Sebastopol,  we  must  pay  for  the 
damage  we  have  done.  We  are  not  entitled  to  a  separate  flag, 
and  I  am  afraid  if  we  had  one  we  should  be  subject  to  ridicule.  A 
pi're  white  ground  would  prefigure  our  snow  drifts ;  a  gull  with 
outspread  wings,  our  credulous  qualities;  and  a  few  discolored 
eggs,  portray  our  celebrated  missiles.  But  what  sort  of  a  fla'r 
>Tv,u.i,  ,,„%\,  .....  i  j.-,o,  oij.,  Lijcau  ^.-luviucca  Biiuuiu  uu  uiiued,  and 
they  would  from  their  territorial  extent,  their  commercial  enter- 
prise,  their  mineral  wealth,  their  wonderful  agricultural  productions, 
and  above  all,  thcr  intelligent,  industrious,  and  still  loyal  popula- 


258 


TUB    BUNDLE    OF    3TIOK8. 


tion,  in  thno  form  a  nation  second  to  none  on  earth ;  until  inen  I 
prefer  to  be  a  citizen  of  the  world. 

"  '  I  once  asked  an  Indian  where  he  lived.  I  meant  of  courco  where 
his  camp  was,  but  the  question  was  too  broad  and  puzzlea  *^im. 
Stretching  out  his  arm  and  describing  a  circle  with  his  heel,  he 
said,  '  I  live  in  all  these  woods  !'  Like  him,  I  live  in  all  this  worliJ. 
Those  who,  like  the  English  and  Americans,  have  appropriated  .,0 
large  a  portion  of  it  to  themselves,  may  severally  boast,  if  they 
think  proper,  of  their  respective  governments  and  territories.  My 
boast,  Sir,  is  a  peculiar  one,  that  I  have  nothing  to  boast  of.' 

"'If  such  are  your  views,'  1  said,  'I  must  say  I  do  not  under- 
stand  that  absurd  act  of  firing  your  parliament  house.  It  is,  I 
assure  you,  reprobated  everywhere.  Our  folks  say  your  party 
commenced  as  old  Hunkers*  and  ended  as  Barnburyiers,'' 

"That  remark  threw  him  off  his  guard;  he  rose  up  greatly 
agitated;  his  eyes  flashed  fire,  and  he  extended  out  his  arm  as  if 
he  intended  by  gesticulation  to  give  full  force  to  what  bo  was  about 
to  say.  He  stood  in  this  attitude  for  a  moment  without  uttering 
a  word,  when  by  a  sudden  effort,  he  mastered  himself,  and  took  up 
his  hat  to  walk  out  on  the  terrace  and  recover  his  composure. 

"  As  he  reached  tlie  door,  he  turned,  and  oaid : 

"  '  The  assenting  to  that  infamous  indemnity  act,  Mr.  Slick,  and  the 
still  more  disreputable  manner  in  which  it  received  the  guberna- 
torial sanction,  has  produced  an  impression  in  Canada  that  no  loyal 
man — '  but  he  again  checked  himself  and  left  the  sentence  unfinished. 

"  I  was  sorry  I  had  pushed  him  so  hard,  but  the  way  he  tried  to 
evade  the  subject  at  first,  the  bitterness  of  his  tone,  and  the  excite- 
ment into  which  the  allusion  threw  him,  convinced  me  that  the 
English  neither  know  who  their  real  friends  in  Canada  are,  nor  how 
to  retain  their  affections. 

"  When  he  returned,  I  said  to  him,  '  I  was  only  jesting  about 
your  having  no  grievances  in  Canada,  and  I  regret  having  agitated 
you.     I  agree  with  you,  however,  that  it  is  of  no  use  to  remonstrate 

*  "  We  have  been  requested*to  give  a  definition  of  this  term  •  old  Hunkers.' 
Party  nicknames  are  not  often  logically  justified  ;  and  we  can  only  say  that 
that  section  of  the  late  dominant  party  in  this  State  (the  democratic)  which 
claims  to  be  the  more  radical,  progressive,  reformatory,  «Stc.,  bestowed  the  ap- 
pellation of  '  Old  Hunker'  on  the  other  section,  to  indicate  that  it  was  distin- 
guished by  opposite  qualities  from  those  claimed  for  itself  We  believe  the  title 
was  also  intRnded  to  indicate  that  those  on  whom  it  was  conferred  had  an  appe- 
tite for  a  large  'hunk'  of  the  spoils,  though  we  never  could  discover  that  they 
were  peculiar  in  that.  On  the  ovher  hand,  the  opposite  school  was  termed 
'  Barnburners,' in  allusion  to  the  story  of  an  old  Dutchman,  who  relieved  hiui- 
self  01  rats  by  burning  his  bains,  which  they  infesled — ^just  like  externiinatinj 
all  banks  and  corporations  to  root  out  the  abuses  connected  therewith.  The 
fitness  or  unfitness  of  tl .  sc  family  terms  of  enucarment  is  none  of  our  businoss." 
■    JMaw  YoKiC  Tr.iBUNB. 


THE    BUNDLE    OP     STICKS. 


269 


fi ;  until  inen  I 


to  remonstrate 


with  the  English  public.  They  won't  listen  to  you.  If  you  want 
to  be  heard,  attract  their  attention,  in  the  first  instance,  by  talking 
of  their  own  immediate  concerns,  and  while  they  ire  regarding  you 
wit"  intense  interest  and  anxiety,  by  a  sleight  of  hand  shift  the  dis- 
solving view,  and  substitute  a  sketch  of  your  own.  For  instance, 
gfiys  you,  'How  is  it  the  army  in  the  Crimea  had  no  tents  in  the 
autumn,  and  no  huts  in  the  winter — the  hospitals  no  fittings,  and 
the  doctors  no  nurses  or  medicines  1  IIow  is  it  disease  ard  neglect 
have  killed  more  men  than  the  enemy"?  Why  is  England  the 
laughing-stock  of  Russia,  and  the  butt  of  French  and  Yankee  n 
cuie  ?  and  how  does  it  happen  this  country  is  filled  with  grief  and 
humilialion  from  one  end  of  it  to  the  other?  T  will  ♦'>"  vou. 
These  affairs  were  managed  bij  a  branch  of  the  Colonia.  office. 
The  minister  for  that  department  said  to  the  army,  as  he  did  to  the 
distant  provinces,  '  Manage  your  own  affairs,  and  don't  bother  us.' 
Then  pause  and  say,  slowly  and  emphatically,  '  Yoti  now  have  a 
taste  nf  what  we  have  endured  in  the  colonies.  The  same  incompe- 
tency has  ruled  over  both.'* 

"'Good  heavci.s,'  said  he,  'Mr.  Slick,  I  wish  you  was  one  of  us.' 

"'Thank  you  for  the  compliment,'  sais  I.  'I  feel  flattered,  I 
assure  you  ;  but,  excuse  me,  I  have  no  such  ambition.  I  am  con- 
tent to  be  a  humble  Yankee  clcckmaker.  A  Colonial  Office  in 
which  ihere  is  not  a  single  man  that  evt  saw  a  colony,  is  not  exactly 
the  yovernment  to  suit  me.  The  moment  I  found  my  master  knew 
less  than  I  did,  I  quit  his  school,  and  set  up  for  myself 

"  Yes,  my  friend,  ilie  English  want  to  have  the  mirror  held  up  to 
them  ;  but  that  is  youv  business  and  not  mine.  Tt  ^vould  bo  o.it  of 
piaco  for  me.     J  am  a  Yankee,  and  politics  are  n  ^  ;  I  have 

no  turn  for  them,  and  I  don't  think  I  have  the  r  cnowledge 

of  the  subject  for  discussing  it ;  but  you  have  bot».,  and  I  wonder 
you  don't. 

"  Now,  Doctor,  you  may  judge  from  that  conversation,  and  the 
deep  feeling  it  exhibits,  that  men's  thoughts  are  wandering  in  new 
channt^^'  The  great  thing  for  a  statesman  is  to  direct  them  to  the 
right  one.  I  have  said  there  were  three  courses  to  bo.  considered  ; 
first,  incorporation  with  England  ;  secondly,  independence ;  thirdly, 
annexation.  The  subject  is  too  large  for  a  quarter-deck  walk,  so  I 
will  only  say  a  few  words  more.  Let's  begin  with  annexation  first.  , 
The  thinking,  reflecting  people  among  us,  don't  want  these  pro- 
vinces. We  guess  we  are  big  enough  already,  and  nothing  but  our 
great  rivers,  canals,  railroads,  and  ^legraphs  (which  like  skewers 
in  a  round  of  beef,  fasten  the  unwieldly  mass  together,)  could 

pUbaiUiy     Keep      us      UllilcU.  V»   1LIH.JUL      LliUti:     \\  X:.    SlliJlilU    lUlI    lU    PIvaVOo, 

in  no  time.  It's  as  much  as  they  can  do  to  keep  all  tight  and  snug 
now;  but  them  skewers  nor  no  o^^hers  can  tie  a  greater  bulk  than 
we  have.     Well,  I  don't  think  colonists  want  to  be  swamped  in  our 


260 


THE     BUNDLE     OF     STICKS. 


vast  rcpuliiic  either.  So  their  jilii't.  no  ^cent  danger  from  that 
nnloss  the  dev:i  jrits  info  ui  both,  which,  if  a  favorable  chanco 
ortercJ,  ho  is  not  onlikcly  to  do.  So  h^t  that  pass.  Secondly,  as  to 
incorporation.  That  is  a  gn-nd  idea,  but  it  is  almost  too  grand  for 
John  Bull's  head,  and  a  little  grain  too  large  for  his  pride.  There 
are  difticulties,  and  serious  ones,  in  the  way.  It  would  require  par- 
ticipation  in  the  legislature,  which  would  involve  knocking  off  some 
of  the  Irish  brigade  to  nuiko  room  for  your  members ;  and  there 
would  be  a  hurrush  at  that,  as  O'Connell  used  to  say,  that  would 
bung  liannghar.  It  would  also  involve  nn  invasion  of  the  upper 
house,  for  colonists  won't  take  half  a  loaf  now,  i  tell  you;  which 
would  nuike  some  o'  those  gouty  old  lords  fly  round  and  sorcain 
like  Mother  Gary's  chickens  in  a  galo  of  wind ;  and  thon  there 
would  bo  the  story  of  the  national  debt,  and  a  particif)ation  in  im- 
perial  taxes  to  adjust,  and  so  on,  but  none  of  these  difliculties  are 
insuperable. 

"  A  statesman  with  a  clever  head,  a  sound  judgment,  and  a  good 
hearty,  could  adjust  a  scheme  that  would  satisfy  all ;  at  least  it  vvunld 
satisfy  colonists  by  its  justice,  and  reconcile  the  peers  and  the 
people  of  IiJngland,  by  its  expediency,  for  the  day  Great  Britain 
parts  with  these  colonies,  depend  upon  it,  she  descends  in  the  scale 
of  nations  most  rapidly.  India  she  may  lois-.  any  day,  for  it  is  a 
government  of  opviioti  only.  Australia  will  emancipate  itself,  ere 
long,  but  these  provinces  she  may  and  ought  to  retain. 

"  Tnirdiy,  independence.  This  is  better  for  her  than  annexation 
hy  a  long  chalk,  and  better  for  the  colonies  too,  if  I  was  allowed  to 
spend  my  opinion  on  it ;  but  if  that  is  decided  upon,  something 
inust  be  done  soon.  The  way  ought  to  be  prepared  for  it  by  an 
immediate  federative  and  legislative  union  of  them  all.  It  is  of  no 
use  to  consult  their  governors,  they  don't  and  they  can't  know  anv- 
thing  of  the  country  but  its  roads,  lakes,  rlvc^s,  and  towns;  but  of 
the  people  they  kno\r  nothing  whatever.  You  might  as  well  ask 
the  steeple  of  a  ^^ooden  church  whether  tho  sill  that  rests  >ii  the 
stone  founuatlon  is  sound.  They  are  too  l>ig,  ricorJaig  to  their 
own  absurd  uotions,  too  small  in  the  eyes  of  colonists,  and  too  far 
removed  and  unbending  to  know  anything  about  it.  What  can  a 
man  learn  in  five  years,  except  the  painful  Ihct  that  ho  kncv  aot\ms, 
when  he  came,  and  knows  as  little  when  ho  haves.  He  can  form 
a  better  estimate  of  himself  than  when  he  landed,  and  returns  an 
humbler,  but  not  a  wiser  man:  but  that's  all  his  sehooliu  ends  in. 
No,  .SVV-pp,  it's  only  men  like  you  and  nie  who  know  the  ins  and 
outs,  of  the  people  heie." 

"  Don't  say  me,"  said  the  Doctor.  '  fb 
nothinir  about  the  inhabitants  o 


Iness 


birds,  the  fish,  and  the  beast.*; 


lese  woods  and  waters,  but  the 


Don't  you  include  politicians,"  said  I,   "of  all  shades  and 


THE     BUNDLE    OF    STICKS. 


261 


bers ;  and  there 


colors,  under  the  last  genus  ?  because  I  do,  there  are  regular  beasts 
of  prey. '  ° 

u\;r'',M?  '''."^^^'^' ^°  '^'^  ^^  cl'^^n't  know  nothing  about  them. 
.        VVel  ,    sais  1,  "  I  ain't  so  modest,  I  can  tell  you,  for  I  do  know 
I  am  a  clocknirtker,  and  understand  machinery.     I  know  all  about 
Iho  wheels,  pulleys,  pendulum,  balances,  and  so  on,  the  length  of 
tiie  chain,  and  what  is  best  of  all,  the  way  to  wind  'em  up,  sot  Vm 
a  gc^ng,  and  make  -.m  keep  time.     Now,  Doctor,  I'Jl  tell  you  what 
neither  the  English,  nor  the  Yankees,  nor  the  colonists  themselves 
know  anything  of,  and  that  is  about  the  extent  and  importance  of 
those  JNorth  American  provinces  under  British  rule.     Take  your 
pencil  now,  and  write  down  a  fiiw  facts  I  will  give  you,  and  when 
you  are  alone  meditating,  just  chew  on  'em. 

""f'  St— there  are  four  millions  of  square  miles  of  territory  in 
their.  aereas  all  Em  ope  has  but  three  millions  some  odd  huticlred 
thousands,  and  our  ah.  ^^hty,  everlastin'  United  States  still  less  than 
that  agi  m.  Gi^r.  i  alone  is  equal  in  size  to  Great  Britain,  France 
and  t  russMa.  Ihc  maritime  provinces  themselves  cover  a  space  as 
large  as  Holland,  Belgium,  Greece,  Portugal  and  Switzerland,  all 
put  together.  The  imports  for  185:],  were  between  ten  and  eleven 
millions,  and  the  exports,  (ships  sold  included)  between  nine  and 
ten  millions.  At  the  commencement  of  the  American  revolution 
when  we  first  dared  the  English  to  fight  us,  we  had  but  two  and  a 
half,  these  pro  vine:-  now  contain  nearly  three,  and  in  a  half  a  cen- 
tury  will  reach  the  enormous  amount  of  eighteen  millions  of  inhap 
bitants.  The  increase  of  population  in  the  States  is  thirtv-three 
p.;  cent.,  m  Canada  sixty-eight.  The  united  revenue  is  .learlv  a 
million  and  a  halt;  and  their  shipping  amounts  to  four  hundred  and 
nfly  thousand  tons. 

Now,  take  these  fact,>5  and  see  what  an      npire  is  here,  surely 
the  best  in  climate,  soil,  mineral,  and  OL..ei  productions  in  the 
world,  and  peopled  by  such  a  race,  as  no  other  country  under 
heaven  ran  produce.     No,  Sir,  here  are  the  bundle  of  sticks,  all  they 
wane  is  to  be  well  united.     How  absurd  it  seems  to  us  Yankees 
that  England  is  both  so  ignorant  and  so  blind  to  her  own  interests, 
a^,  not  to  give  her  attention  to  this  interesting  portion  of  the  empiro| 
that  in  natural  and  commercial  wealth  is  of  Infinitely  more  import 
ancc  than  half  a  dozen  Wallachias  and  Moldavias,  and  in  loyalty 
intelligence,  and  entcrp?'ise,  as  far  superior  to  turbulent  Ireland  a\ 
It  is  possiule  for  or-  country  to  surpass  another.     However,    Doc 
tor,  It's  no  aflair  of  mine.     I  hate  politics,  and  I  hate  talking  firrures. 
opoiin  we  try  a  cigar,  and  some  whlie  satin.'^ 


ill  shades  and 


262 


TOWN     ANE     COUNTET. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

TOWN    AND    COUNTRY 

"  Doctor,"  sais  I,  as  we  ascended  the  deck  the  following  room 
ing,  "  I  can't  tell  you  how  I  have  enjoyed  these  incidental  runs  on 
shore  .  have  had  during  my  cruise  in  the  '  Black  Hawk.'  I  am 
amazin  fond  of  the  country,  and  bein'  an  early  riser,  I  manage  to 
lose  none  of  its  charms.  J  like  to  see  the  early  streak  in  the  east 
and  look  on  the  glorious  sky  when  the  sun  rises.  I  like  every 
thing  about  the  country,  and  the  people  that  live  in  it.  The  town 
is  artificial,  the  country  is  natural.  Whoever  sees  the  peep  of  the 
morning  in  a  city  but  a  drowsy  watchman,  who  waits  for  it  to  go 
to  his  bed?  a  nurse,  that  is  counting  the  heavy  hours,  and  longs  to 
put  out  the  unsnuffed  candles,  and  take  a  cup  of  strong  tea  to  keep 
her  peepers  open ;  or  some  houjeless  wretch,  that  has  woke  up 
from  his  nap  on  a  door-step,  by  a  punch  in  the  ribs  from  the  staff 
of  a  policeman,  who  begrudges  the  misfortunate  critter  a  luxury  he 
is  deprived  of  himself,  and  asks  him  what  he  is  a  doin'  of  there,  as 
if  he  didn't  know  he  had  nothin'  to  do  no  where,  and  tells  him  to 
mizzle  off  home,  as  if  he  took  pleasure  in  reminding  him  he  had 
none.  Duty  petrifies  these  critters'  hearts,  harder  than  the  grand 
marble  porch  stone  that  served  for  a  couch,  or  the  door-step  that 
was  used  for  a  pillow.  Even  the  dogs  turn  in  then,  for  they  don't 
think  it's  necessary  to  mount  guard  any  longer.  Blinds  and  cur- 
tains are  all  down,  and  every  livin'  critter  is  asleep,  breathing  the 
nasty,  hot,  confined,  unwholesome  air  of  their  bed-rooms,  instead 
of  inhaling  the  cool  dewy  breeze  of  Heaven. 

"  Is  it  any  wonder  that  the  galls  are  thin,  and  pale,  and  delicate, 
and  are  so  languid,  they  look  as  if  they  were  givin  themselves  airs, 
when  all  they  want  is  air  1  or  that  the  men  complain  of  dyspepsy, 
and  look  hollow  and  unhealthy,  having  neither  cheeks,  stomach, 
nor  thighs,  and  have  to  take  bitters,  to  get  an  appetite  for  their 
food,  and  pickles  and  red  pepper  to  digest  it?  The  sun  is  up,  and 
has  performed  the  first  stage  of  his  journey  before  the  maid  turns 
out,  opens  the  front  door,  and  takes  a  look  up  and  down  street,  to 
see  who  is  stirrin.  Early  risin  must  be  cheerfulsome,  for  she  is 
very  chipper,  and  throws  some  orange-peel  at  the  shopman  of  their 
next  neighbor,  as  a  hint  if  he  was  tu  chase  her,  he  would  catch  her 
behind  the  hall-door,  as  he  did  yesterday,  after  which  she  would 
show  him  into  the  supper-room,  where  the  liquors  and  cakes  are 
still  standing  as  they  were  lett  last  night. 

"  Yes,  she  is  right  to  hide,  f  >r  it  is  decent,  if  it  ain't  modest,  seinn 
the  way  she  has  jumped  into  her  clothes,  and  the  danger  there  is  of 


TOWN     AND    COUNTRY. 


Ms 


jumping  out  of  them  again.     How  can  it  be  otherwise,  when  she 
has  to  get  up  so  horrid  early.     It's  all  the  fault  of  the  vile  milk 
man,  who  will  come  for  fear  his  milk  will  get  sour;  and  that  beast 
the  iceman,  who  won't  wait,  for  fear  his  ice  will  melt ;    tnd  that 
stupid  nigger  who  will  brush  the  shoes  then,  he  has  so  many  to 
clean  elsewhere. 

"  As  she  stands  there,  a  woman  ascends  the  step,  and  produces 
a  basket  from  under  her  cloak,  into  which  she  looks  carefully 
examines  its  contents,  (some  lace  frills,  tippets,  and  collars  of  her 
mistress,  which  she  wore  a  few  nights  ago  at  a  ball,)  and  returns 
with  something  heavy  in  it,  for  the  arm  is  extended  in  carryin^r  it 
and  the  stranger  disappears.  She  ^till  lingers,  she  is  expecting 
some  one.  It  is  the  postman,  he  gives  her  three  or  four  letters, 
one  of  which  is  for  herself  She  reads  it  approvingly,  and  then 
caiefully  puts  it  into  her  bosom,  but  that  won't  retain  it  no  how 
she  can  fix  it,  so  she  shifts  it  to  her  pocket.  It  is  manifest  Posty 
cjirnes  a  verbal  answer,  for  she  talks  very  earnestly  to  him,  and 
shakes  hands  with  him  at  parting  most  cordially. 

"  It  must  be  her  turn  for  a  ball  to-night  I  reckon,  for  a  carriafre 

drives  very  rapidly  to  within  three  or  four  hundred  yards  of  the 

house,  and  then  crawls  to  the  door  so  as  not  to  disturb  the  family. 

A  very  fashionably  dressed  maid  is  there ;  (her  mistress  must  be 

very  kind  to  lend  her  such  expensive  head-gear,  splendid  jewelry 

and  costly  and  elegant  toggery,)  and  her  beau  is  there  with  such  a 

handsome   moustache   and   becoming   beard,    and    an    exquisitely 

worked  chain  that  winds  six  or  seven  times  round  him,  and  han^s 

loose  over  his  waistcoat,  like  a  coil  of  golden  cord.     At  a  rriven 

signal,  from  the  boss  of  the  hack,  who  stands  door  in  hand    the 

young  lady  gathers  her  clothes  well  up  her  drumsticks,  and  would 

you  believe,  two  steps  or  springs  only,  like  those  of  a  kangaroo, 

ake  her  into  the  house.     It's  a  streak  of  light,  and  nothing  more. 

its  lucky  she  is  thm,  for  fat  tames  every  critter  that  is  foolish 

enough  1o  wear  it,  and  spoils  agility. 

"The  beau  takes  it  more  leisurely.  There  are  two  epochs  in 
a  critter  s  life  of  intense  happiness,  first  when  he  doffs  the  petti- 
coats, pantellets,  the  hermaphrodite  rig  of  a  child,  and  mounts  the 
jacket  and  trowsers  of  a  boy ;  and  the  other  is  when  that  gives 
way  to  a  '  long  tail  blue,'  and  a  beard.     He  is  then  a  man. 

'  Ilie  beau  has  reached  this  enviable  age,  and  as  he  is  full   of 
admiration  of  himself,  is  generous  enougn  to  allow  time  to  others 
0  teast   their  eyes  on  him.     So  he  takes  it  leisurely,  his  character, 
Ike  that  charming  girl's,  won't  suffer  if  it  is  known  they  return  with 
I     .    ,.{  ,ne  jiiwiiiinj; ;  v.u   inu  cunirary,  woineu,  as  they  always 
do,  the  little  fools,  will  think  more  of  him.     They  make  no  allow- 
ance for  one  of  their  own  sex,  but  they  are  very  indulgent,  indeed 
tney  are  both  blind  and  deaf  to  the  errors  of  the  other.     The  fac* 


264 


TOWN     AND    COUNTRY 


><» 


is,  if  I  didn't  know  it  was  only  vindicating  the  honor  of  their  sex,  I 
vow  I  sliould  think  it  was  all  envy  of  tiio  gall  who  was  so  lucky,  as 
to  be  unlucky  ;  but  I  know  better  than  that.  If  the  owner  of  the 
house  should  bo  foolish  enough  to  be  up  so  early,  or  entirely  take 
leave  of  his  senses,  and  ask  him  why  he  was  mousing  about  there 
he  flatters  himself  he  is  just  the  child  to  kick  him.  Indeed  he  feels 
inclined  to  flap  his  wings  and  crow.  He  is  very  proud.  Celestiiia 
is  in  love  with  him,  and  tells  him,  (but  he  knew  that  before)  he  is 
very  handsome.  lie  is  a  man,  \u  has  a  beard  as  black  as  the  aoe 
of  spades,  is  full  dressed,  and  the  world  is  before  him.  He  thrashed 
a  watchman  last  night,  and  now  he  has  a  drop  in  his  eye,  would 
fight  the  devil.  He  has  succeeded  in  deceiving  that  gall,  he  has 
no  more  idea  of  marrying  her  than  1  have.  It  shows  his  power. 
He  would  give  a  dollar  to  crow,  but  sufiors  himself  to  be  gently 
pushed  out  of  the  hall,  and  the  door  fastened  behind  him,  amid 
such  endearing  expressions,  that  they  would  turn  a  fellow's  head, 
even  after  his  hair  had  grown  gray.  lie  then  lights  a  cigar,  gets 
up  with  the  driver,  and  looks  round  with  an  air  of  triumph,  as  muoh 
as  to  say — "what  would  you  give  to  be  admired  and  as  successful 
as  I  am;"  and  when  he  turns  the  next  corner,  he  does  actilly  crow. 

"  Yc",,  yes,  when  the  cat's  away,  the, mice  will  play.  Things 
ain't  in  a  mess,  and  that  house  a  hurrah's  nest  is  it  ?  Time  wears 
on  and  the  alternate  gall  must  be  a  movin'  now,  for  the  other  who 
was  at  the  ball  has  gone  to  bed,  and  intends  to  have  her  by-duily 
ncadache  if  inquired  for.  To-night  it  will  be  her  turn  to  dance, 
and  to-morrow  to  sleep,  so  she  cuts  round  considerable  smart.  Poor 
ihing,  the  time  is  not  far  ofl',  when  you  will  go  to  bed  and  not 
sleep,  but  it's  only  the  child  that  burns  ita  fingers  that  dreads  the 
fire.     In  the  meantime  set  things  to  rights. 

"  The  curtains  are  looped  up,  and  the  shutters  folded  back  into 
the  wall,  and  the  rooms  are  sprinkled  with  tea-leaves,  which  are 
lightly  swept  up,  and  the  dust  left  behind,  where  it  ought  to  be,  on 
the  carpet,  that's  all  the  use  there  is  of  a  carpet,  except  you  have 
got  corn.  And  then  the  Venetians  are  let  down  to  darken  the 
rooms,  and  the  windows  are  kept  closed  to  keep  out  the  flies,  the 
dust  and  the  heat,  and  the  flowers  brought  in  and  placed  in  the 
stands.  And  there  is  a  beautiful  temperature  in  the  parlor,  for  it 
is  the  same  air  that  was  there  a  fortnight  before.  It  is  so  hot 
when  the  young  ladies  come  down  to  breakfast  they  can't  eat,  so 
they  take  nothing  but  a  plate  of  buckwheat  cakes,  and  another  of 
hot  buicered  rolls,  a  dozen  of  oysters  a  pot  of  preserves,  a  cup  of 
honey,  and  a  few  ears  of  Indian  corn.  They  cau't  abide  meat,  it's 
too  solid  and  heavy.  It's  so  horrid  warm  it's  impossible  they  can 
have  an  appetite,  and  even  that  little  trifle  makes  them  feel  dys- 
peptic. They'll  starve  soon  ;  what  can  be  the  matter  ?  A  glass 
of  cool  ginger  pop  with  ice  would  bo  refreshing,  and  soda  water  is 


TOWN     AND    OOUNTRT 


265 


still  better      It  is  too  early  for  wine,  and  at  any  rate  it's  heatinff 
besides  being  unscriptural.  ^    ""-a  'ts  neaung, 

"Well  the  men  look  at  their  watches,  and  say  they  are  in  « 

bolt.     What  a  wonder  it  is  the  English  common  people  call  tha 
stomach  a  bread-basket,  for  it  has  n'meanin'  there.^    T.y  loihi 

o.r  t  fwith\Tir7' ';"  '^''.  T  ^^°  ^"-^^  ^-  beef  ,Lfm: ' 

no  timo    .'  ,  M^"""  "  '"^"^'  ^*^'"^-     ^'hoy  clear  the  table  in 

a   tS  '2r  ^  fTi  'u'"^'  ^"^  ''  ''^^^^  ^he  servants  troul,le.     And 
a  steak,  and  a  dish  of  chops,  added  to  what  the  ladies  had,  is  grand 
ihe  best  way  to  make  a  pie  is  to  mr.ke  it  in  the  stoma-h^  C 
flour  bx.ns  piping  hot  is  the  best,  and  as  their  disge.tion  an'  good 
t  IS  better  to  try  a  little  of  every  thing  on  the  tobln  to    ee  which 
best  agrees  with  them.     So  down  goes  the  Johnnycakes    Ind  an 
flappers    Lucy  Neals,  lloecakes-with  toast,  fine  oookLVHce Tt 
ter,  Indian  batter,  Kentucky  batter,  flannel  ckkes,  and  clam  iters' 
feupor-superlor  fine  flour  is  the  wholesomest  thing  ^  the  w"  Hd  and 

fi^h  "nd  rn.l"  ""''  "''"  u''^«^^"^^  ^"^  P-^^^^'  and  that  is  ^ 
light  and  as  flakey  as  snow  when  well  made.     Mow  can  it  make 

paste  ins.de  of  you  and  be  wholesome?  If  you  woul.l  behove 
some  Yankee  doctors  yov'd  think  it  would  nmkc  the  stomach  a 
regular  glue  pot.  They  pretend  to  tell  you  pup  made  ofTwiU 
<;1  a  baby  as  dead  as  a  herring.  But  doctors  must  have  some 
hidden  tnnig  to  lay  the  blame  of  their  ignorance  on.  Ona,  Zn 
tlK7  didn  t  know  what  was  the  matter  of  a  child  they  said  it  was 
water  m  the  brain,  and  now  when  it  dies-oh,  they  say  the  poor 
tl..ng  was  killed  by  that  pastry  flour.  But  ^he.;  be  hanged.  How 
can  the  best  of  any  thing  that  is  good  be  bad  ?  The  only  thing  Z 
to  be  sure  a  thing  is  best,  and  then  go  ahead  with  it. 

Well,  when  the  men  get  to  their  offices  they  are  half  roasted 
alive  and  have  to  take  ices  to  c.ol  them,  and  then  for  fear  the  cold 
will  heat  them  they  have  to  take  brandy  cocktail  to  counteract  it 
bo  they  keep  up  a  sort  of  artificial  fever  and  ague  all  day  The  ici 
gives  the  one  and  brandy  the  other,  like  shuttlecock  and  battledore 
if  thoy  had  walked  down  as  they  had  ought  to  have  done  in  the 
cool  ot  the  morning,  they  would  have  avoided  all  this. 

"  How  different  it  is  now  in  the  country,  ain't  it  ?  What  a  glo. 
nous  thing  the  sunrise  is  1  How  beautiful  the  dew-spangled  bushes 
and  the  pearly  drops  they  shed  are  ?  How  sweet  and  cool  is  the 
morning  air,  and  how  refreshing  and  bracing  the  light  breeze  is  to 
lie  nerves  that  have  been  relaxed  in  warm  repose.  The  new- 
plowed  earth,  the  snowy-headed  clover,  the  wild  flowers,  the  bloom- 
ir^  trees  and  the  balsamic  -ruce,  all  exhale  their  fragrance  to  in- 
vite you  forth,  while  the  birds  offer  up  their  morning  hymn  as  if  to 
proclaim  that  all  things  praise  the  Lord.  The  lowing  herd  remind 
you  that  they  have  kept  their  appointed  time,  and  the  fresheaiag 


268 


TOWN     AND     COUNTRY. 


breezes  as  they  sv^ell  in  the  forest,  and  awaken  the  sleeping  leaves 
seem  to  whisper,  'we  too  como  with  healing  on  our  wings.'  and 
the  babbling  brook,  that  it  also  has  its  mission  to  minister  to  your 
wants.  Oh,  morning  in  the  country  is  a  glorious  thing,  and  it  is 
impossible  when  one  rises  and  walks  forth  and  surveys  the  scene 
not  to  exclaim,  '  God  is  good.' 

"Oh,  that  earl/ hour  has  health,  vigor,  and  cheerfulness  in  it. 
How  natural  it  seems  to  nie,  how  famili;\r  I  am  with  every  thin<T 
it  indicates.  The  dew  tells  me  there  will  be  no  showers,  the  white 
frost  warns  me  of  its  approach  j  and  if  that  does  not  arrive  in  time, 
the  sun  instructs  me  to  notice  and  remember,  that  if  it  rises  bright 
and  clear,  and  soon  disappears  in  a  cloud,  1  must  prepare  for  heavy 
rain.  The  birds  and  the  animals,  all,  all  say,  "  we,  too^,  are  cared 
for,  and  we  have  our  fore-knowledge,  which  we  discl€>se  by  our  con- 
duct to  you."  The  brooks,  too,  have  meaning  in  their  voices,  and 
the  southern  sentinel  proclaims  aloud,  '  prepare.'  And  the  western, 
*  ail  is  well.' 

"  Oh,  how  well  I  know  the  face  of  nature.  What  pleasure  I 
take  as  I  commence  my  journey  at  this  hour,  to  witness  the  rising 
of  the  mist  in  the  autumn  from  the  low  grounds,  and  its  pausing 
on  the  hill  tops,  as  if  regretting  the  scene  it  was  about  to  leave. 
And  how  I  admire  the  little  insect  webs,  that  are  spangled  over 
the  field  at  that  time;  and  the  partridge  warming  itself  in  the  first 
gleam  of  sunshine  it  can  discover  on  the  road.  The  alder,  as  I 
descend  into  the  glen,  gives  me  notice  that  the  first  frost  has  visited 
him,  as  it  always  does,  before  others,  to  warn  him  that  it  has  arri- 
ved, to  claim  every  leaf  of  the  forest  as  its  own.  Oh,  the  country 
is  the  place  for  peace,  health,  beauty,  and  innocence.  I  love  it,  1 
was  born  in  it.  I  lived  the  greater  part  of  my  life  there,  and  I 
look  forward  to  die  in  it. 

"  How  different  from  town  life,  is  that  of  the  country.  There 
are  duties  to  be  performed  in-door  and  out-door,  and  the  inmates 
assemble  round  their  breakfast-table,  refreshed  by  sleep,  and  invi- 
goroted  by  the  cool  air,  partake  of  their  simple,  plain,  and  substan- 
tial  meal,  with  the  relish  of  health,  cheerfulness  and  appetite.  The 
open  window  admits  the  fresh  breeze,  in  happy  ignorance  of  dust, 
noise,  or  fashionable  darkness.  The  verandah  defies  rain,  or  noon- 
oay  sun,  and  employment  affords  no  room  for  complaint  that  the 
day  is  hot,  the  weather  oppressive,  the  nerves  weak,  or  the  diges- 
tion enfeebled.  There  can  be  no  happiness  where  there  is  an  alter- 
nation  of  listlessness  and  excitement.  They  are  the  two  extremes 
between  which  it  resides,  and  that  locality  to  my  mind  is  the  coun- 
try. ^  C&re,  disease,  sorrow,  and  disappointment  are  common  to 
both.  They  are  rnc  lot  of  iiumanity ;  but  the  children  of  mammon 
and  of  God  bear  them  differently. 

"  I  didn't  intej'd  »o  turn  preacher,  Doctor,  but  1  do  positively 


TOWN     AND    COUNTRY. 


U7 


believe,  if  1  hadn't  been  a  clockmaker,  dear  old  Minister  would 
have  made  me  one.     I  don't  allot,  though,  I  'vould  h^e  takT  n 
Shckville,  for  I  actilly  think  I  couldn't  help  walt2dng  wUh  the  c"lls 
wh.ch  would  have  put  our  folks  aito  fits,  or  kept  old  G^^^^^^ 
man  like,  to  J'  ave  sinners  behind  me.    I  can't  make  out  th^se  puH 
tan  fellows  or  evangelical  boys  at  all.     To  my  mtnd  reliSonTa* 
cheerful  thin-,  intended  to  make  us  happy,  not  miserable     Id 
that  our  faces,  like  that  of  nature,  should  bTUilng    and  that  like 
b.rds,  we  should  s  ng  and  carol,  and  like  lilies,  we  should  be  well 
arrayed,  and  not  that  our  countenances  should  make  folks  beireve 
we  were  chosen  vessels,  containing,  not  the  milk  of  human  kbd 
ness,  but  horrid  sour  vinegar  and  acid  mothery  ground?     Why 

"  Plague  take  them  old  independents ;  I  can't,  and  never  could 
understand  them.  I  believe  if  Bishop  Laud  had  allowed  them  o 
sing  through  their  noses,  pray  without  gowns,  and  build  chanels 
without  steeples,  they  would  hive  died  o^ut  like  quaker  by  bTi  g 
let  alone.  They  wanted  to  make  the  stato  believe  the^  were  ot' 
consequence.  If  the  state  had  treated  them  as  if  they  were  of  no 
importmce,  they  would  have  felt  that,  too,  very  soon.  Oppc^ 
^Uion  made  them  obstinate.  They  won't  stick  at  nothing  to  carry 
heir  own  ends.  o  ^v  ^aujr 

"They  made  a  law  once  in  Connecticut  that  no  man  should  rido 
or  drive  on  a  Sunday  except  to  a  conventicle.    Well,  an  old  Dutch 

faJ'bZ.  H^'Vir^^^'"  '^f  ™  ^^"^^  Ne^  Amsterdam 
a.id  belonged  to  Holland,  once  rode  into  the  colony  on  horseback 
on  a  Salbath  day ;  pretty  hard  job  it  was  too,  for  he  was  a  very 
stout  man  and  a  poor  horseman.  There  were  no  wheel  carriages 
in  those  days,  and  he  had  been  used  to  home  to  travel  in  canal 
boats  and  smoke  at  his  ease ;  but  he  had  to  make  the  journey,  and 
he  did  it,  and  he  arrived  just  as  the  puritans  were  coming  out  of 
meeting,  and  going  home,  slowly,  stately,  and  solemnly,  to  their 
cold  dinner,  cooked  the  day  before,  (for  they  didn't  think  it  no 
narm  to.make  servants  work  double  tides  on  Saturday)  their 
Sall!ui"^  ^"^  o«y^/'"'^  of  a  week  day,  but  nothing  on  i\i9 
"Well  it  was  an  awful  scandal  this,  and  a  dreadful  violation  of 

Si  m  'v  ""f  !^^  ^''""S  "^^^°"-  Connecticut  and  New  Amster. 
aani  (Wew  York)  were  nothing  then  but  colonies;  but  the  Puritans 
owed  no  obedience  to  princes,  and  set  up  for  themselv3s.  The 
eiders  and  ministry  and  learned  men  met  on  Monday,  to  consider 

or  this  dreadful  nrofanltv  nf  tho.  T\,.f(A.  ^ ,.v,„„  *^  V^..  .i. .    _ 

nana  it  was  argued,  if  he  entered  their  state  (for  so  they  called  it 

*  This  is  the  common  name  for  the  Sarracenia. 


268 


TOWN     AND     COUNTRY. 


then)  he  was  amenable  to  their  laws,  and  ought  to  be  cited,  con- 
demned, and  put  into  the  stocks,  as  an  example  to  evil  doers. 
On  the  other  hand,  they  got  hold  of  a  Dutch  book  on  the  Law  of 
Nations,  to  cite  agin  him ;  but  it  was  written  in  Latin,  and 
although  it  contained  all  about  it,  they  couldn't  find  the  place,  for 
their  minister  said  there  was  no  index  to  it.  Well,  it  was  said,  if 
we  are  independent,  so  is  he,  and  whoever  heard  of  a  king  or  a 
prince  being  put  in  the  stocks.  It  bothered  them,  so  they  sent 
their  Yankee  governor  to  him,  to  bully  and  threaten  him,  and  see 
how  he  would  take  it,  as  we  now  do,  at  the  present  day  to  Spain, 
about  Cuba,  and  England,  about  your  fisheries. 

"  Well,  the  governor  made  a  long  speech  to  him,  read  him  a 
chapter  in  the  Bible,  and  then  expounded  it,  and  told  him  they 
must  put  him  in  the  stocks.  All  this  time  the  Dutchman  went  on 
smoking,  and  blowing  out  great  long  puffs  of  tobacco.  At  last  he 
paused,  and  said : 

"  '  You  be  tamned.  Stockum  me — stockum  teivel,'  and  he  laid 
down  his  ^ipe,  and  with  one  hand  took  hold  of  their  governor  by 
the  foretop,  and  with  the  other  drew  aline  across  his  forehead  and 
said,  'den  1  declare  war,  and  Gooten  Ilimmel !  I  shall  scalp  you 
all.' 

"After  delivering  himself  of  that  long  speech,  he  poured  out  two 
glasses  of  Schiedam,  drunk  one  himself,  and  offered  the  Yankee 
governor  the  other,  who  objected  to  the  word  Schierfam,  as  it  ter- 
minated in  a  profane  oath,  with  which,  he  said,  the  Dutch  language 
was  greatly  defiled  ;  but  seeing  it  was  also  called  Geneva,  he  would 
swallow  it.  Well,  his  high  mightiness  didn't  understand  him,  but 
he  opened  his  eyes  like  an  owl,  and  stared,  and  said,  '  dat  is  tarn 
coot,'  and  the  conferencp  broke  up. 

"  Well,  it  was  the  firsi  visit  of  the  Dutch  governor,  and  they 
hoped  it  would  be  the  last,  so  they  passed  it  over.  But  his  busi- 
ness was  important,  and  it  occupied  him  the  whole  week  to  settle 
it,  and  he  took  his  leave  on  Saturday  evening,  and  was  to  set  out 
for  home  on  Sunday  again.  Well,  this  was  considered  as  adding 
inhuit  to  injury.  What  was  to  be  donel  Now  it's  very  easy  and 
very  proper  for  us  to  sit  down  and  condemn  the  Duke  of  Tuscany, 
who  encourages  pilgrims  to  go  to  shrines  where  marble  statues 
weep  blood,  and  cataliptic  galls  let  flies  walk  over  their  eyes  with- 
out winking,  and  yet  imprisons  an  English  lady  for  giving  away 
the  'Pilgrim's  Progress.'  It's  very  wrong,  no  doubt,  but  it  aint 
very  new  after  all.  Ignorant  and  bigoted  people  always  have  per- 
secuted, and  always  will,  to  the  end  of  the  chapter.  But  what  was 
to  be  done  with  his  high  mightiness,  the  Dntch  governor.  Well, 
they  decided  that  it  was  not  lawful  to  put  him  into  the  stocks ;  but 
that  it  was  lawful  to  deprive  him  of  the  means  of  sinning.  So  one 
of  the  elders  swapped  horses  with  him,  and  when  he  started  on  th» 


TOWN*     A.ND    COUNTRY. 


26> 


m,  read  him  a 


sabbath,  the  critter  was  so  lame  after  he  wen^.  a  Tv,;Te,  he  had  to  re. 
turn  and  wait  till  Monday. 

''  No,  i  don't  understand  these  Puritan  folks ;  and  I  suppose  if  I 
had  been  a  preacher,  they  wouldn't  have  understood  me.     But  I 
must  get  back  to  where  1  left  off.     I  was  a  talkin'  about  the  differ- 
ence  of  hfe  m  town  and  in  the  country,  and  how  in  the  world  I  got 
away,  off  from  the  subject,  to  the  Dutch  governor  and  them  Piiri. 
tans,  I  don  t  know.     When  I  say  I  love  the  country,  I  mean  it  in 
Its  fullest  extent,  not  iv  erely  old  settlements  and  rural  districts 
but  the  great  unbroken  .   -.jt.     This  is  a  taste,  I  believe,  a  man 
must  have  m  early  life.     I  don't  think  it  can  be  acquired  in  middle 
age,  any  more  than  playin'  marbles  can,  though  old  Elgin  tried  that 
game  and  made  money  at  it.     A  man  must  know  how  to  take  care 
of  hiniself,  and  cook  for  himself     It's  no  place  for  an  epicure  be- 
cause he  can  t  carry  his  cook,  and  his  spices,  and  sauces,  and  all 
that,  with  him.     Still  a  man  ought  to  know  a  goose  from  a  grid- 
iron ;  and  if  he  wants  to  enjoy  the  sports  of  the  flood  and  the  for- 
est he  should  be  able  to  help  himself;  and  what  he  does  he  ought 
to  do  wel  .     Fingers  were  made  afore  knives  and  forks  ;  flat  stones 
before  bake-pans ;  crotched  sticks  before  jacks  ;  barks  before  tin  • 
and  chips  before  plates;  and  it's  worth  knowing  how  to  use  them 
or  form  them. 

It  takes  two  or  three  years  to  build  and  finish  a  good  house     A 
wigwam  IS  knocked  up  in  an  hour;  and  as  you  have  to  be  your 
own  architect,  carpenter,  mason,  and  laborer,  it's  just  as  well  t"o  be 
handy  as  not.     A  critter  that  can't  do  that,  hante  the  gumption  of 
a  bear  who  makes  a  den,  a  fox  who  makes  a  hole,  or  a  bird  that 
makes  a  nest,  let  alone  a  beaver,  who  is  a  dab  at  house  building 
Wo  man  can  enjoy  the  woods,  that  aint  up  to  these  things.     If  he 
aint,  he  had  better  stay  to  his  hotel,  where  there  is  one  servant  to 
clean  his  shoes,  another  to  brush  his  coat,  a  third  to  make  his  bed 
a  fourth  to  shave  him,  a  fifth  to  cooic  for  him,  a  sixth  to  wait  oil 
him  a  seventh  to  wash  for  him,  and  half  a-dozen  more  for  him  to 
scold  and  bless  all  day.     That's  a  place  where  he  can  go  to  bed  and 
get  no  sleep— go  to  dinner,  and  have  no  appetite -go  to  the  win- 
dovv,  and  get  no  fresh  air,  but  snuff  up  the  perfume  of  drains,  bar- 
rooms, and  cooking-ranges— suffer  from  heat,  because  he  can't  wear 
his  coat,  or  from  politeness,  because  he  can't  take  it  off— or  go  to 
he  beach,  where  the  sea  breeze  won't  come,  it's  so  far  up  the  coun- 
try, where  the  white  sand  will  dazzle,  and  where  there  is  no  shade 
because  trees  won't  grow— or  stand  and  throw  stones  into  the' 
water,  and  then  jump  in  arter  'em  in  despair,  and  forget  the  wav 
""up      ■  '^'  ^^^^^^^  ^'^  anything  than  go  to  "the  woods. 

"But  if  he  can  help  himself  like  a  man,  oh,  it's  a  glorious  place, 
ihe  ways  of  the  forest  are  easy  to  learn,  its  nature  is  simple,  and 
tHe  cooking  plain,  while  the  fare  is  abundant.     Fish  for  the  catch- 


!3itO 


TOWN     AND     COUNTRY 


'«        ^i 


ing,  deer  for  the  shooting,  cool  springs  for  the  drinkii_p,  wood  fof 
the  cutting,  appetite  for  eating,  and  sleep  that  makes  no  wooing.  It 
comes  with  the  first  star,  and  tarries  till  it  fades  into  morning.  For 
the  time,  you  are  monarch  of  all  you  survey.  No  claimant  forbids 
you  ;  no  bailiff  haunts  you  ;  no  thieves  molest  you  ;  no  fops  annoy 
you.  ]f  the  tempest  rages  without,  you  are  secure  in  your  lowly 
tent.  Though  it  humbles  in  its  fury  the  lofty  pine,  and  uproots 
the  stubborn  oak,  it  passes  harmlessly  over  y<ai,  and  you  feel  for 
once  you  are  a  free  and  independent  man.  You  realize  a  t  rm 
which  is  .a  fiction  in  our  constitution.  Nor  pride  or  envy,  hatred 
t .  malice,  rivalry  or  strife  is  there.  You  are  at  peace  with  all  the 
world,  and  the  world  is  at  peace  with  you.  You  are  not  its  author- 
ity.  You  can  worship  God  after  your  own  fashion,  and  dread  not 
the  name  of  bigot,  idolator,  heretic,  or  schismatic.  The  forest  is 
his  temple— he  is  ever  present,  and  the  still,  smal'  voice  of  your 
short  and  simple  prayer  seems  more  audible  amid  the  silence  that 
reigns  around  you.  You  feel  that  you  are  in  the  presence  of  your 
creator,  before  whom  you  humble  yourself,  and  not  of  man,  before 
whom  you  clothe  yourself  with  pride.  Your  very  solitude  seems 
to  impress  you  with  the.  belief  that  though  hidden  from  the  world, 
you  are  more  distinctly  visible,  and  more  individually  an  object  of 
Divine  protection,  than  any  worthless  atom  like  yourself  ever 
could  be  in  the  midst  of  a  multitude— a  mere  unit  of  millions.  Yes, 
you  are  free  to  come,  to  go,  to  stay  ;  your  home  is  co-extensive 
with  the  wild  woods.  Perhaps  it  is  better  for  a  solitary  retreat, 
than  a  permanent  home ;  still  it  forms  a  part  of  what  I  call  the 
country. 

"  At  Country  Harbor  we  had  a  sample  of  the  simple,  plain, 
natural,  unpretending  way  in  which  neighbors  meet  of  an  evening 
in  the  rural  districts.  But  look  at  that  house  in  the  town,  where 
we  saw  the  fiimily  assembled  at  breakfast  this  morning,  and  see 
what  is  going  on  there  to-night.  It  is  the  last  party  of  the  season. 
The  family  leave  the  city,  in  a  week,  for  the  country.  What  ade- 
lightful  change  from  the  heated  air  of  a  town-house,  to  the  quiet 
retreat  of  an  hotel  at  a  watering-place,  where  there  are  only  six 
hundred  people  collected.  It  is  positively  the  very  last  party,  and 
would  have  been  given  weeks  ago,  but  everybody  was  engaged  for 
so  long  a  time  a-head,  there  was  no  getting  the  fashionable  folks  to 
come.  It  is  a  charming  ball.  The  old  ladies  are  fulli/  dressed, 
only  they  are  so  squeezed  against  the  walls,  their  diamonds  and 
pearls  are  hid.  And  the  young  ladies  are  so  liffhtly  drfessed,  they 
look  lovely.     And  the  old  gentlemen  seem  so  happy,  as  they  walk 

1,  — ,  ..1,,,,^,  .J. I  .tit   iiic  nv-quaiiiiaiiues  ui   LDUii"  curiy 

days ;  and  tell  every  one,  they  look  so  well,  and  their  daughters 
are  so  handsome.  It  aint  possible  they  are  bored,  and  they  try 
not  even  to  look  so.     And  the  room  is  so  well  lighted,  and  so  well 


TOWN     AND    COUNTRY. 


271 


ii.-,  wood  fof 


filled,  perhaps  a  little  too  much  so,  to  leave  space  for  the  dancers 
but  yet  not  more  so  than  is  fashionable.     And  then  the  young  gen! 
tieuien  talk  so  enchantingly  about  Paris,  and  London,  and  Home 
and  so  disparagingly  of  home,  it  is  quite  refreshing  to  hear  them.' 
And  they  have  beon  in  such  high  society  abroad,  they  ou"ht  to  bo 
well  bred,  for  they  know  John  Manners,  and  all  the  Manners  fam- 
ily, and  well  informed  hi  politics,  for  they  know  John  Russell,  who 
never   says   I'll    be  hanged    if  I  do   this  or  that,  but  I  will  be 
beheaded  it  1  do  ;  in  allusion  to  one  of  his  great  ancestors  who  N-as 
as  innocent  of  trying  to  subvert  the  constitution  as  he  is.     And  they 
have  often  seen  '  Albert,  Albert,  Prince  of  Wales,  and  all  the  royal 
family,  as  they  say  in  England  for  shortness.     They  have  travelled 
with  their  eyes  open,  ears  open,  mouths  open,  and  pockets  open. 
Ihey  have  heard,  seen,  tasted,  and  bought  everything  worth  havin<T. 
Ihey  are  capital  judges  of  wine,  and  that  reminds  them,  there  Ts 
lots  of  the  best  in  the  next  room;  but  they  soon  discover  they 
can  t  have  it  in  perfection  in  America.     It  has  been  nourished  for 
the  voyage ;  it  has  been  fed  with  brandy.     It  is  heady  ;  for  when 
they  return  to  their  fair  friends,  their  hands  are  not  quite  steady ; 
they  are  apt  to  spill  things  over  the  ladies'  dresses  (but  they  are  so 
good-natured,  they  only  laugh ;  for  they  never  wear  a  dress  bat 
wunst).     And  their  eyes  sparkle  like  jewels,  and  they  look  at  their 
partners  as  if  they  would  eat  'em  up.     And  I  guess  they  tell  them 
so,  for  they  start  sometimes,  and  say  : 

" '  Oh,  well  now,  that's  too  bad !  Why,  how  you  talk  ?  WelL 
ti-aveliixi'  hasn't  improved  you.' 

'•  But  it  must  be  a  charming  thing  to  be  eat  up,  for  they  look 
delighted  at  the  very  idea  of  it ;  and  their  mammas  seem  pleased 
that  they  are  so  much  to  the  tasle  of  these  travelled  gentlemen. 

"  Weil  then,  danci;  "s  voted  a  bore  by  the  handsomest  couple 
in  the  room,  and  they  oit  apart,  and  the  uninitiated  think  they  are 
making  love.  And  they  talk  so  conlidentially,  and  look  so 
amused  ;  they  seem  delighted  with  each  other.  But  they  are  only 
criticising. 

"'Who  is  pink  skirt?' 

" '  Blue-nose  Mary.' 

"  '  What  in  the  world  do  they  call  her  Blue-nose  for  V 

'"It  is  a  nick-name  for  the  Nova  Scotians.     Her  father  is  one  ; 

ho  made  his  fortune  by  a  dlVrng-bdV 

" '  Did  he  'i     Well,  it's  quite  right  then  it  should  go  with  a  belU: 
" '  How  very  good !     May  I  repeat  that  ?     You  do  say  such 

clever  things !     And  who  is  that  pale  girl  that  reminds  you  of 
^., „u  nouana,  Oicacncu  wnue  j     diic  iuoK5  quite  senpturai ;  sne 

has  a  proud  look  and  a  high  stomach.' 

That's  Rachael  Scott,  one  of  my  very  best  friends.     She  is  as 

good  a  girl  as  ever  lived.     My  !  I  wish  1  was  as  rich  as  she  is.     I 


272 


TOWN     AND    OOirNTBY. 


have  only  three  hundred  thousand  dollars,  but  she  will  have  four  at 
her  father's  death  if  ho  don't  bust  and  fail.     But,  dear  me !  how 
severe  you  are  !     I  am  quite  afraid  of  you.     I  wcnder  what  you 
will  say  of  me  when  my  back  is  turned  !  * 
"'Shalll  tell  you?' 
"  '  Yes,  if  it  isn't  too  savage.' 

"  The  hint  about  the  money  is  not  lost,  for  he  is  loolti  >g  for  a 
fortune,  it  saves  the  trouble  of  making  one  ;  and  li?  whimpers  some- 
thing  in  her  ear  that  pleases  her  uncommonly,  for  she  sais : 

"  '  Ah  now,  the  severest  thing  you  can  do  is  to  flatter  me  that 
way  ' 

"  rhey  don't  discourse  of  the  company  any  more  j  they  have 
too  much  to  say  to  each  other  of  tiiemselves  now. 
"  '  My  !  what  a  smash  !  what  in  the  world  is  that  V 
"  '  Nothing  but  a  large  mirror.     It  is  lucky  it  is  broken  ;  for  if 
the  host  saw  himself  in  it,  he  might  see  the  face  of  a  fool.' 

'"How  uproariously  tho«c  young  men  talk,  and  how  loud  the 
music  is,  and  how  confounded  hot  the  .-oom  is  !  I  must  go  home. 
But  I  must  wait  a  moment  till  that  r.oisy,  tipsy  boy  is  drafrffed 
(?own  stairs,  and  shoved  into  a  hack."  "^^ 

"And  this  is  upstart  life,  is  it?  Yes,  but  there  nre  changing 
scenes  in  life.  Look  at  these  rooms  next  morning.  The  chan- 
delier is  broken  ;  the  centre  table  upset,  the  curtains  are  ruined- 
the  carpets  are  covered  with  icc-creains,  jellies,  blancmanges,  and 
broken  glass.  And  the  elegant  album,  souvenirs,  and  aut^ograph- 
books,  arc  all  in  the  midst  of  this  nasty  mess.*  The  couches  are 
greasy,  the  silk  ottoman  shows  it  has  been  sat  tn,  "i.:oe  it  met  with 
an  accident  which  was  only  a  it-ijle,  and  there  has  been  the  devil  to 
pay  everywhere.  A  doctor  is  seen  going  into  the  house,  and  soon 
after  a  coffin  is  seen  coming  out.  An  unbidden  guest,  a  disgusting, 
levelling  democrat  came  to  that  ball,  how  or  when  no  one^knew"' 
but  there  he  is,  and  there  he  will  remain  foi'  the  rest  of  the 
summer.  He  has  victimized  one  poor  girl  alieady,  and  is  now 
strangling  another.  The  yellow  fever  is'  there.  Ni^ture  has  sent 
her  avenging  angel.     There  is  no  safety  but  in  I'lignt. 

"  Good  gracious  !  if  people  Avill  ape  their  superiors,  why  won't 
they  imitate  their  elegance  as  well  as  their  extravagance,  and  learn 
that  it  is  the  refinement  alone  of  the  hij,';cr  orders,  '-.hich  in  all 
countries  distinguishes  them  from  the  rest  of  mankind.  The 
decencies  of  life,  when  polished,  become  its  brightest  ornaments. 
Gold  is  a  means,  and  not  an  end.  It  can  do  a  great  deal,  still  it 
can't  do  everything ;  and  among  others,  I  guess,  it  can't  make  a 
gentleman,  or  else  California  would  be  chock  full  of  'em.  No; 
give  ine  the  country,  and  the  folks  that  live  in  it,  I  say." 

*  Whoever  thinks  this  description  overdrawn,  is  refr  ;  to  c  remarkably 
clever  work  which  lately  appeared  in  New  York,  cntiiled  "The  Potiphai 
Papers."     Mr.  Slick  has  evidently  spared  this  class  of  society. 


THE    HONEYilOON. 


27S 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

THE    HONEYMOON. 

\yTER  having  g.  /en  vent  to  the  foregoing  lockrum,  I  took  Jehoso- 
»iiat  Beans  lilustraied  "Biography  of  the  Eleven  Hundred  and 
'even  Illustrious  American  Heroes,"  and  turned  in  to  read  a  spell  • 
uut  arter  n  while  1  lost  sight  of  the  heroes  and  their  exploits,  and 
1  got  nito  a  wiue  spekilation  on  all  sorts  of  subjects,  and,  amonc 
the  rest,  my  mind  wandered  otf  to  Jordan  river,  the  Coiiin  wood 
girls  m  particular,  and  Jessie  and  the  Doctor,  and  the  Beaver-dam 
and  Its  inmates  in  general.  I  shall  set  down  my  musings  as  '{  l 
was  thinking  aloud.  s 

I  woxider,  sais  I  to  myself,  whether  Sopny  and  I  shall  bo  happy 
together,  sposin  always,  that  she  is  willing  to  put  her  head  into  the 
yoke,  tor  that  s  by  no  means  sartain  yet.     I'll  know  better  when  I 
can  study  her  more  at  leisure.     Stil'   matrimony  is  alv  ays  a  risk 
where  y^i'  don't  know  what  sort  of  breaking  a  critter  has  had  when 
young      Women,  in  a  general  way,  don't  look  like  the  same  critters 
w!:en  they  are  spliced,  that  they  do  before ;  matrimony,  like  sugar 
and  water,  has  a  natural  alfinity  for,  and  tendency  to  acidity.     The 
clear,  beautiful,  bright  sunshine  of  the  we  Jding  morning,  is  too  apt 
to  cloud  over  at  twelve  o'clock,  and  the  afternoon  to  be  cold,  raw 
and  uncomfortable,  or  else  the  heat  generates  storms  that  fairly 
make  the  house  shake,  and  the  happy  pair  tremble  again.     Every 
body  knows  the  real,  solid  grounds,  which  can  alone  make  married 
lite  perfect.     J  should  only  pi  ose  if  1  was  to  state  them,  but  1  have 
an  idea,  as  cheerfulness  is  a  great  ingredient,  a  good  climate  has  a 
vast  deal  to  do  with  it,  for  who  can  be  chirp  in  a  bad  one.     Wed- 
lock was  first  instituted  in  Paradise.     Well,  there  must  have  been 
a  charming  climate  there.     It  cou:-^.  not  have  been  too  hot,  for  Eve 
never  used  a  parasol,  or  even  a  "  kiss-me-quick,"  and  Adam  never 
complained,  though  he  wore  no  clothes,  that  the  sun  blistered  his 
skin,     ft  couldn't  have  been  wet,  or  they  would  have  coughed  all 
the  time,  like  consumptive  shrep,  and  it  would  have  spoiled  their 
garden,  let  alone  giving  them  the  chilblains  and  the  snuffles.     They 
didn't  require  umbrellas,  uglies,  fans,  or  India-rubber  shoes.    There 
was  no  such  a  thing  as  a  stroke  of  the  sun,  or  a  srxow-drift  there. 
The  temperature  must  have  been  perfect,  and  connubial  bliss,  1  allot, 
was  real  jam  up.     The  only  thing  that  seemed  war  .;wg  there,  was 
for  some  one  to  drop  in  to  teaj  now  and  then,  for  Eve  to  have  a 
good  chat  with,  while^Adam  was  a  studyin  astronomy,  or  tryin  to 
invent  a  kettl'>  that  would  stand  fire ;  for  women  do  like  talking, 
that's  a  fact,  and  there  are  many  little  things  they  have  to  say  to 


274 


THE    HONEYMOr.Sr 


each  other,  that  no  man  has  any  right  to  hear,  and  if  he  did,  he 
couldn't  understand. 

It's  ^''ce  a  dodge  Sally  and  I  had  to  blind  mother.  Sally  was 
for  everlastingly  leaving  the  keys  about,  and  evevy  time  there  was 
an  inquiry  about  Lhem,  or  a  hunt  for  them,  the  :>]d  lady  would  read 
her  a  proper  Jectu'e.  So  at  last  she  altered  ,hc  name,  and  said 
"Sam,  wo  is  shW'^l,"  instead  of  where  is  the  ke/.  and  she  tried  all 
she  could  to  find  it  out,  but  she  couldn't,  for  the'iife  of  her. 

Yes,  what  can  be  expected  of  such  a  climate  as  Nova  Scotia  or 
England.     Though  the  first  can  ripen  Indian  v.orn  and  the  other 
can't,  and  that  is  a  great  test,  I  can  tell  you,  it  is  hard  to  tell  which 
of  ther.i  is  wuss,  for  both  are  bad  enough,  gracious  knows,  and  yet 
the  fools  that  live  in  them,  brag  that  their  own  beats  all  natur.     If 
it  is  the  former,  well  then  thunder  don't  clear  the  weather  as  it  does 
to  the  south,  and  the  sun  don't  come  out  bright  again  at  wunst,  and 
all  natur  look  clear,  and  tranquil,  and  refreshed;  and  the  flowers 
and  roses  don't  hang  their  heads  down  eoily  for  the  breeze  to  brush 
the  drops  from  their  newly  painted  leaves,  and  then  hold  up  and 
look  more  lovely  than  ever;  nor  does  the  voice  of  song  and  rnerri- 
nient  arise  from  every  tree;  ncr  fragrance  and  perfume  fill  the  air, 
till  you  are  tempted  to  say,  now  did  you  ever  see  anything  so 
charming  as  this  ?  nor  do  you  stroll  out  arm-in  arm  (that  is  sposin 
you  ain't  in  a  nmty,  dirty,  horrid  town,)  and  feel  pleased  with  the 
dear  married  gall  and  yourself,  and  all  you  see  and  hear  while  you 
drink  in  pleasure  with  every  sense — on,  it  don't  tlo  that.     Thunder 
unsettles  everything  for  most  a  week,  there  seems  no  end  to  the 
gloom  during  these  three  or  four  days.     You  shiver  if  you  don't 
make  a  fire,  and  if  you  do  you  are  fairly  roasted  alive.     It's  all 
grumblin  and  growlin  within,  and  all  mud,  slush,  and  slop  outside. 
You  are  bored  to  death  everywhere.     And  if  it's  English  climate, 
it  is  wus  sti]',  because  in  Nova  Scotia  there  is  an  end  to  all  this  at 
last,  for  the  west  wind  blows  towards  the  end  of  the  week  soft,  and 
cool,  and  bracing,  and  sweeps  away  the  clouds,  and  lays  the  dust, 
and  dries  all  up,  and  makes  everything  smile  again.     But  if  it  is 
English,  it's  unsettled  fid  uncertain  all  the  time.     You  can't  depend 
on  it  for  an  hour.     Now  it  rains,  then  it  clears,  after  that  the  sua 
shines;  but  it  rains,  too,  both  together,  like  hystericks,  laughing 
and  crying  at  the  same  time.     The  trees  are  loaded  with  water,  and 
hold  it  like  a  sponge;  touch  a  bough  of  one  with  your  hat,  and  you 
are  drowned  in  a  shower-bath.     There  is  no  hope,  for  there  is  no 
end  visible,  and  when  there  does  seem  a  little  glimpse  of  light,  so 
as  to  make  you  think  it  is  a  going  to  relent,  it  wraps  itself  up  in  a 
foggy,  drizzly  mist,  and  sulks  like  anything. 

In  this  country  they  have  a  warm  summer,  a  magnificent  autumn, 
a  olear,  cold,  healthy   </inter,  but  no  sort  of  spring  at  all.    la 


THE     HONEFMOON. 


275 


cent  autumn, 


England  they  have  no  summer  and  no  winter.*  Now  in  mv 
opmion,  that  makes  the  diflerence  in  temper  between,  the  two  races 
lie  clear  sky  and  bracing  air  here,  when  they  do  come,  ^ive  the 
folks  good  sp.r.ts;  but  thu  extremes  of  heat  and  cold  limit  the  time 
and  decrease  the  inclination  for  exercise.  Sti.'l  the  people  are  good! 
natured,  merry  fellows.  In  England,  the  perpetual  gloom  of  the 
sky  aflects  the  disposition  of  the  men.  America  knows  no  such 
temper  as  exists  in  Britain.  People  here  can't  even  form  an  idea 
ot  It.  i^  oiks  often  cutoff  their  children  there  in  their  wills  for  half 
nothmg,  won  t  be  reconciled  to  them  on  any  terms,  if  they  once 
displease  hem,  and  both  they  and  their  sons  die  game,  and  when 
death  sends  cards  of  invitation  for  the  last  assemblage  of  a  family 
they  write  declensions.  There  can't  be  much  real  love  where  there 
IS  no  tenderness.  A  gloomy  sky,  stately  houses,  and  a  cold,  formal 
people,  make  Cupid,  like  a  bird  of  passage,  spread  his  wings,  and 
take  Hight  to  a  more  congenial  climate. 

Castles  have  shew-apartments,  and  the  vulgar  gaze  with  stupid 
wonder,  and  envy  the  owners.     But  there  are  rooms  in  them  all 
not  exhibited..    In  them  the  imprisoned  bird  may  occasionally  be 
seen,  as  in  the  olden  time,  to  flutter  against  the  casement  and  pine 
in  the  gloom  of  its  noble  cage.     There  are  chambers,  too,  in  which 
grief,  anger   jealousy,  wounded  pride,  and  disappointed  ambition 
pour  out  Iheir  sighs,  their  groans,  and  imprecations,  unseen  and 
unheard.     I  he  halls  resound  with  mirth  and  revelry,  and  the  eye 
grows  dim  with  its  glittering  splendor  ;  but,  amid  all  this  ostenta- 
tious  brilliancy,  poor  human  nature  refuses  to  be  comforted  with 
diamonds  and  pearls,  or  to  acknowledge  that  happiness  consists  in 
gilaed  galleries,  gay  equipages,  or  fashionable  parties.     They  are 
cold  and  artificial.     The  heart  longs  to  discard  this  joyless  pa- 
geantry, to  surround  itself  with  human  affections,  and  only  asks  to 
love  and  bo  loved. 

Still  E:  ^lard  is  not  wholly  composed  of  castles  and  cottages, 
and  there  are  very  many  happy  homes  in  it,  and  thousands  upon 
thousands  of  happy  people  in  them,  in  spite  of  the  melancholy 
cJimato,  the  destitution  of  the  poor  and  the  luxury  of  the  rich. 
God  IS  good.  He  is  not  only  merciful,  but  a  just  judge.  He 
equalizes  the  condition  of  all.  The  industrious  poor  man  is  content, 
for  he  relies  on  Providence,  and  his  ovi'n  exertions  for  his  daily 
bread.  He  earns  his  food,  and  his  labor  gives  him  a  zest  for  it. 
Ambition  craves,  and  is  never  satisfied,  one  is  poor  amid,  his 
prodigal  wealth,  the  other  rich  in  his  frugal  poverty.  M  man  is 
rick  whose  expenditure  exceeds  his  means  ;  and  no  one  is  poor,  whose 
mconnngs  exceeds  his  outgoings.  Barring  such  tnings  as  climato, 
over  whifh  we  have  no  control,  happiness,  in  my  idea,  consists  in 

*  I  wonder  what  Mr.  Slick  would  say  now,  in  1866. 


%f 


270 


THE     HONEYMOON. 


II  i 


the  mind,  and  not  in  the  purse.  These  are  plain  common  truths 
and  every  body  will  tell  you  there  is  nothing  new  in  them,  just  as 
If  there  was  anything  new  under  the  sun  but  my  wooden  clocks 
and  yet  they  only  say  so  because  they  can't  deny  them,  for  who 
acts  as  if  he  e\cr  heard  of  them  before.  Now,  if  they  do  know 
them,  why  the  plague  don't  th.-y  regula.e  their  time-pieces  by 
them.  If  they  did,  matrimony  wouldn't  make  such  an  everlastiii 
transmogrification  of  folks  as  it  does,  would  it  ? 

The  way  cupidists  scratch  their  head,  and  open  their  ^yes  and 
stare,  after  they  are  married,  reminds  me  of  Felix  Culpepper.     He 
was  a  judge  at  Saint  Lewis,  on  the  Mississippi,  and  the  lawyers 
used  to  talk  gibberish  to  him,  yougerry  evegerry  iggery,  ogerrv 
a-udtel  him  it  was  Littleton's  Norman  French,  and  Law  Latin 
It  iairly  onlakilised  him.     Wedlock  works  just  such  changes  on 
folks  sometimes.     It  makes  me  laugh  and  then  it  fairly  scarbs  me 
bophy,  dear,  how  will  you  and  I  get  on,  eh  ?     The  Lord  only 
knows,  but  you  are  an  uncommon  sensible  gall,  and  people  tell  me 
till  I  begin  to  believe  it  myself,  that  I  have  some  common  sense 
so  we  must  try  to  learn  the  chart  of  life,  so  as  to  avoid  those  sunk 
rocks  so  many  peoole  make  shipwreck  on.     I  have  often  asked 
myselt  the  reason  pT  all  this  onsartainty.     Let  us  jis^  see  how  folks 
talk  and  thmk,  and  decide  on  this  subject.     First  and  foremost 
they  have  got  a  great  many  cant  terms,  an^  you  can  judge  a  good 
deal  from  them.     There  is  the  honeymoon  now,  was  there  ever 
such  a  silly   word  as  that?      Minister  said  the  Dutch  at  New 
Amsterdam,  as  they  used  to  call  New  York,  brought  out  the  word 
to  America,  for  all  the  friends  of  the  new   married  couple,  in 
±lolland,    did   nothing   for    a   whole    month,    but   smoke,   drink 
metheglin,  (a  tipple  made  of  honey  and  gin,)  and  they  called  that 
bender  the  honeymoon  ;  since  then  the  word  has  remained,  though 
metheglin  is  forgot  for  something  better. 

Well,  when  a  couple  is  married  now,  they  give  up  a  whole 
month  to  each  other,  what  an  everlastin  sacrifice,  ain't  it,  out  of  a 
man  s  shoit  life  ?  The  reason  is,  they  say,  the  metheglin  gets  sour 
after  uiat,  and  ain't  palateable  no  more,  and  what  is  left  of  it  is 
used  for  picklin  cucumbers,  peppers,  and  nastertions,  and  what  not. 
Now  as  Brother  Eldad,  the  doctor,  .-ays,  let  us  dissect  this  phrase, 
nnd  out  what  one  whole  mooi.  means,  and  then  we  shall  under- 
stand  what  this  wonderful  th  ng  is.  The  new  moon  now,  as  a  body 
might  say,  am  t  nothing.  It's  just  two  small  lines  of  a  semicircle, 
like  half  a  wheel,  with  a  little  strip  of  white  in  it,  about  as  big  as  . 
cart  tire,  and  it  sits  a  little  after  sundown  ;  and  as  it  gives  no  liei.. 
you  must  either  use  a  candle  or  go  to  bed  in  the  dark,  now  that's 
the  first  week,  and  it's  no  great  shakes  to  brag  on,  is  it?  Well, 
then  there  is  the  first  quarter,  and  calli.ig  that  the  first  which 
ought  to  be  second,  unless  the  moon  has  only  three  (quarters,  which 


I 


THE    HONEYMOON. 


277 


I 


iounds  Odd,  shows  that  the  new  moon  counts  for  nothin.     WelJ 
the  first  quarter  ,s  something  like  the  thing,  though  not  the  real 
genume  article  either.     It's  better  than  the  other,  but  its  light  don^ 
quae  satisfy  us  neither.     Well,  then  comes  the  full  moonlnd  tTat 
^  all  there  is,  as  one  may  say.     Now,  neither  the  moon  nor  no  hin 
else  can  be  more  than  full,  and  when  y.     have  got  all,  the.  e  is 

to  t'nfcMh?  '"  ''Pf '     ^"'  "  "^^"  "^"^^  b^  ^  bfockhead  ind  ed 
to  expect  the  moon  to  remain  one  minute  after  it  it  full,  as  every 

.gh   clips  a  httle  b  t  off,  till  there  is  a  considerable  junk  gone  by 

the  time  the  week  is  out,  and  what  is  worse,  every  night  there  4 

more  and  more  darkness  afore  it  rises.     It  comes  reluctant  and 

Us  turn  at'the'lInT  ''  ''S  ^"'^V^  ^^^^'  ^^^  ^^^  ^^^  quarter  tafes 
s  tuin  at  the  lantern.     That  only  rises  a  little  afore  the  sun   as  if 

t  was  ashamed  to  be  caught  napping  at  that  hour-that  quarter 

l"lH:Z!:r"\''  ^"'l^  ^^  "^'^-     ««  y««  «^«'  ^^e  new  ^id  last 
quarter  go  for  nothing  ;  that  everybody  will  admit    The  first  ain't 
much  better,  but  the  last  half  of  th.4  quarter  and  the  fir     of  the  full 
make  a  very  decent  respectable  week 

ih^^flV^'l]:  ''^''^''  ^"  ^^''  ''^^''  '^'  ^'-^^^  ''  Why  it  amounts  to 
^is,  hat  »t  there  IS  any  resemblance  between  a  lunar  and  a  lunatic 
month,  that  the  honeymoon  lasts  only  one  good  week 

Don  t  be  skeared,  Sophy,  when  you  read  this,  because  we  must 
look  things  in  the  face  and  call  them  by  their  right  name 

Well,  then,  let  us  call  it  the  honey-week.  Now  if  it  takes  a 
whole  month  to  make  one  honey-we^^k,  it  must  cu  to  waste 
terribly  mustn't  it?  But  then  you  kno;  a  man  can't  wive  and 
thine  the  same  year.      Now  wastin  so  much  of  that  precious 

3.t  nf  >  ''t/''  "•"'  ''■  ^"'  '^'  "^^'  b^^  ^^  i^  -'  -^  ^in'tSe 
IT  ?  1  JaT  ''  ''^  ^."'^'^"'^  ^^'^^  ^""^  happiness  there  is  no 
policy  to  be  had  to  cover  losses-you  must  bear  them  Lll  yoursJ  r! 
iSow  suppose,  just  suppose  for  one  moment,  and  positively  such 
thmgs  have  happened  before  now,  they  have  indeed  1  have  known 
hem  occur  more  than  once  or  twice  myself  among  my  ov^n 
friends,  fact  I  assure  you.  Suppose  now  th.^  week  ..  cold,  cLdy 
or  uncomfortable,  where  is  the  honeymoon  then  '^  T^ecoSct  the^e 
IS  on  y  one  of  them,  there  ain't  two.'  You  can'^sa,  rrained  cSs 
and  dogs  this  week,  let  us  try  the  next ;  you  o.     ,  do     at  i  's  over 

fs"  oftrl'  ''7     '^^"'  ^^"^^"  ^^^^'"  '''^  -^'^  drs^^pltmen  , 
IS  apt  to  end  in  despair.  ' 

th^Z'/?\^  ^T' """  1-'"'?  b'^fo^e.  don't  --  skittish  at  seeing 
mt'nn  1  f  '  rl'T  "^  ""^  ^°^'  y^"''  won't^eve:-  let  the  hatter  be 
Co  LI  '  \  \^^"^';;  '''''''  ^'''■''  '^''''^  ^'-''th  your  sweet  temper' 
rd  en  hV"  "'^"  hear,,  j,,i^h  the  light-hand  1  have  for  a 
le  11,  our  honeymoon  will  last  through  ]:;^,     V/e  will  give  ud  that 

mir:'.''^'  ''f'''  '^^-^^  «"^  g'^^^  "-  -ithout  ¥nowiiV 
■" ■•^""  ^^"^^^  by}  cars  and  noL  by  months,  and  we 


1, 


L-U- 


278 


THE     HONEYMOON. 


won't  expect  what  neither  marriage,  nor  any  other  earthly  thing 
can  give,  perfect  happiness.  It  tante  in  the  nature  of  things,  and 
lon't  stand  to  reasun,  that  earth  is  Heaven,  Slicliville  paradise,  or 
you  and  me  angeis;  we  ain't  no  such  a  thing.  If  you  was,  most 
likely  the  first  eastwardly  wind  (and  though  it  is  a  painful  thing  to 
confess  it,  1  must  candidly  admit  there  is  an  easterly  wind  some- 
times to  my  place  to  home),  why  you  would  just  up  wings  and  off 
to  the  sky,  like  wink,  and  say  you  didn't  like  the  land  of  the  Puri- 
tans, it  was  just  like  themselves,  cold,  hard,  uncongenial,  and  repul 
sive  ;  and  what  should  I  dol  Why  most  likely  remain  behind,  for 
there  is  no  marrying  or  giving  in  marriage  up  there. 

No,  no,  dear,  if  you  are  an  angel,  and  positively,  you  are  amaz- 
inglylike  one,  why  the  first  time  i  catch  you  asleep  I  will  clip  your 
wings  and  keep  you  here  with  me,  until  we  are  both  ready  to  start 
together.  We  won't  hope  for  too  much,  nor  fret  for  trifles,  will 
we  ?  These  two  things  are  the  greatest  maxims  in  life  I  know  of. 
When  I  was  a  boy  I  used  to  call  them  commandments,  but  I  got 
such  a  lecture  for  that,  and  felt  so  sorry  for  it  afterwards,  1  never 
did  again  nor  will  as  long  as  I  live.  (3h,  dear,  I  shall  never  forget 
the  lesson  poor  dear  old  Minister  taught  me  on  that  occasion. 

There  was  a  thanksgiving  ball  wunst  to  Slickville,  and  1  wanted 
to  go,  but  I  had  no  clothes  suitable  for  such  an  occasion  as  that,  r-^d 
father  said  it  would  cost  more  than  it  was  worth  to  rig  me  out  for 
it,  so  1  had  to  stop  at  home.     Sais  Mr.  Hopewell  to  me, 

"  Sam,"  said  he,  "  don't  fret  about  it,  you  will  find  it  '  all  tha 
same  a  year  hence.'  As  that  holds  good  in  most  things,  don't  it 
show  us  the  folly  now  of  those  trifles  we  set  our  hearts  on,  when  in 
one  short  year  they  will  be  disregarded  or  forgotten." 

"  Never  fear,"  said  I,  "  1  am  not  a-going  to  break  the  twelfth 
commandment." 

"  Twelfth  commandment,"  said  he,  repeatin  the  words  slowly, 
lay  in  down  his  book,  taking  oft'  his  spectacles,  and  lookin  hard  at 
me,  almost  onfakilised.  "  Twelfth  commandment,  did  I  hear  right, 
Sam,"  said  he,  "  did  you  say  that  ? " 

Well,  I  saw  there  was  a  squall  rising  to  windward,  but  boy-like, 
instead  of  shortening  sail,  and  taking  down  royals  and  top-gallant 
masts,  and  making  all  snug,  I  jusi  braved  it  out,  and  prepared  to 
meet  the  blast  with  every  inch  of  canvass  set.  "  Yes,  sir,"  said  I, 
"the  twelfth." 

"  Dear  me,"  said  he,  "  poor  boy,  that  is  my  fault.  I  really 
thought  you  knew  there  were  only  ten,  and  had  them  by  heart 
years  ago.  They  were  among  the  first  things  I  taught  you.  How 
on  earth  could  you  have  forgotten  them  so  soon.     Repeat  them  to 


me 


Well,  I  went  thi-ough  them  all,  down  to  "  anything  that  is  his," 


THE    HONEYMOON. 


279 


d  it  'all  tha 


(( 


Sam,  said  he,  "  don't  do  it  again,  that's  a  good  soul,  for  it 
frightens  rae.     I  thought  I  must  have  neglected  you." 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  there  are  two  more,  Sir-" 

"Two  more,"  he  said,  "  why  what  under  the  sun  do  you  mean? 
what  are  they  ?" 

"  Why,"  sais  I,  "the  eleventh  is,  '  Expect  nothin,  and  you  shall 
not  be  disappointed,'  and  the  tweivth  is,  '  Fret  not  thy  gizzard.'  " 

"  And  pray,  sir,"  said  he,  looking  thundersqualls  at  me,  "  where 
did  you  learn  th-.m  ?" 

"  From  Major  Zeb  Vidito,"  said  I. 

"  Major  Zeb  Vidito,"  he  replied,  "  is  the  greatest  reprobate  in 
the  army.  He  is  the  wretch  who  boasts  thut  he  fears  neither  God, 
man,  nor  devil.  Go,  my  son,  gather  up  your  books,  and  go  home. 
You  can  return  to  your  flither.  My  poor  house  has  no  room  in  it 
for  Major  Zeb  Vidito,  or  his  pupil,  Sam  Slick,  or  any  such  profane 
wicked  people,  and  may  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  you." 

Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  it  brought  me  to  my  bearings 
that.  I  had  to  heave  to,  lower  a  boat,  send  a  white  flag  to  him, 
beg  pardon,  and  so  on.  and  we  knocked  up  a  treaty  of  peace,  and 
made  friends  atfain. 

"  I  won't  say  no  more  about  it,  Sam,"  said  he,  "  but  mind  my 
words,  and  apply  your  experience  to  it  afterwards  in  life,  and  see 
if  1  aint  right.  Crime  has  but  two  travelling  companions.  It  com- 
mences its  journey  with  the  scoffer,  and  ends  it  with  the  blasphemer, 
not  that  talking  irreverently  aint  very  improper  in  itself,  but  it 
destroys  the  sense  of  right  and  wrong,  and  prepares  the  way  for 
sin." 

Now,  I  won't  call  these  comniandments,  for  the  old  man  was 
right,  it's  no  way  to  talk,  I'll  call  them  maxims.  Now,  we  won't 
cxp'ct  too  much,  nor  fret  over  trifles,  will  we,  Sophy  ?  It  takes  a 
great  deal  to  make  happiness,  for  every  thing  mtcSt  be  in  tune  like 
a  piano  ;  but  it  takes  very  little  to  spoil  it.  Fancy  a  bride  now 
having  a  tooth-ache,  or  a  swelled  flice  during  the  honeymoon.  In 
courtship  she  won't  show,  but  in  marriage  she  can't  help  it ;  or  a 
felon  on  her  finger,  (it  is  to  be  hoped  she  hain't  given  her  hand  to 
one) ;  or  fancy  now,  just  fancy,  a  hooping-cough  caught  in  the  cold 
church,  that  causes  her  to  make  a  noise  like  drowning,  a  great  gur- 
gling in-draught,  and  a  great  out-blowing,  like  a  young  sporting 
porpoise,  and  instead  of  being  all  alone  with  her  own  dear  husband, 
to  have  to  admit  the  horrid  d<Jctor,  and  take  draughts  that  make 
her  breath  as  hot  as  st'^am,  and  submit  to  have  nauseous  garlic  and 
brandy  rubbed  on  her  breast,  spine,  palms  of  her  hands,  and  soles 
of  her  feet,  that  makes  the  bridegoom,  every  time  he  comes  near 
her  to  ask  her  how  she  is,  sneeze  as  if  he  was  catching  it  himself. 
He  dou't  say  to  himself  in  an  undertone,  damn  it,  how  unlucky 
this  is.     Of  eourse  not  \  he  is  too  happy  to  swear,  if  he  aint  too 


> 


u 

1 

■u 

280 


THE     HONEYMOON. 


#!'! 


good,  as  he  ought  to  be  ;  and  she  don't  say,  eigh — augh,  like  a  don. 
key,  for  they  have  the  hooping  cough  all  the  year  round  :  "  dear 
love,  eigh — augh,  how  wretched  this  is,  ain't  it  ?  eigh — augh,"  of 
course  not;  how  can  she  be  wretched?  Aint  it  her  honeymoon? 
and  aint  she  as  happy  as  a  bride  can  be,  though  she  does  eigh — • 
augh  her  slippers  up  amost.  But  it  won't  last  long,  she  feels  sure 
it  won't,  she  is  better  now,  the  doctor  says  it  will  be  soon  over; 
yes,  but  the  honeymoon  will  be  over,  too,  and  it  don't  come  like 
Christmas,  once  a  year.  When  it  expires  like  a  dying  swan,  it  singg 
its  own  funeral  hymn. 

Well,  then  fancy,  just  fancy,  when  she  gets  well,  and  looks  as 
chipper  as  a  canary-bird,  though  not  quite  so  yaller  from  the  effects 
of  cold,  that  the  bridegroom  has  his  turn  and  is  taken  down  with 
the  acute  rheumatism,  and  can't  move,  tack  nor  sheet,  and  has  cam- 
phor, turpentine,  and  hot  embrocations  of  all  sorts  and  kinds  ap- 
plied to  him,  till  his  room  has  the  identical  perfume  of  a  druggist's 
shop,  while  he  screams  if  he  aint  moved,  and  yells  if  he  is,  and  his 
temper  peeps  out.  It  don't  break  out  of  course,  for  he  is  a  happy 
man  ;  but  it  just  peeps  out  as  a  masculine  he-angel's  would  if  he 
was  tortured. 

The  fact  is,  lookin  at  life,  with  its  false  notions,  false  hopes,  and 
false  promises,  my  wonder  is,  not  that  married  folks  don't  get  on 
better,  but  that  they  get  on  as  well  as  they  do.  If  they  regard 
matrimony  as  a  lottery,  is  it  any  wonder  more  blanks  than  prizes 
turn  up  on  the  wheel  1  Now,  my  idea  of  mating  a  man  is,  that  it  is 
the  same  as  matching  a  horse ;  the  mate  ought  to  have  the  same 
spirit,  the  same  action,  the  same  temper,  and  the  same  training. 
Each  should  do  his  part,  or  else  one  soon  becomes  strained, 
sprained,  and  spavined,  or  broken  winded,  and  that  one  is  about 
[he  best  in  a  general  way  that  suffers  the  most. 

Don't  be  shocked  at  the  comparison ;  but  to  my  mind  a  splen- 
"diferous  woman  and  a  first-chop  horse  is  the  noblest  works  of 
creation.  They  take  the  rag  off  the  bush  quite ;  a  woman  "  that 
will  come"  and  a  horse  that  "will  go"  ought  to  make  any  man 
happy.  Give  me  a  gall  that  all  I  have  to  say  to  is,  "  Quick,  pick 
up  chips  aJid  call  your  father  to  ditmer"  and  a  horse  that 
enables  yon  to  say,  '■' I  am  thar.'^''  That's  all  I  ask.  Now,  just 
look  at  the  different  sorts  of  love-making  in  this  world.  First, 
there  is  a  boy  and  gall  love ;  they  are  practising  the  gamut,  and  a 
gr'^at  bore  it  is  to  hear  and  see  them ;  but  poor  little  things,  their 
whole  heart  and  soul  is  in  it,  as  they  were  the  year  before  on  a  doll 
or  a  top.  They  don  t  know  a  heart  from  a  gizzard,  and  if  you  ask 
them  what  a  soul  is,  they  will  say  it  is  the  dear  sweet  soul  they 
love.  It  begins  when  they  enter  the  dancing-school,  and  ends 
when  they  go  out  into  the  world ;  but  after  all,  1  believe  it  is  the 


THE     HONEYMOON. 


281 


Then  there  is  young  maturity  lovo,  and  what  is  that  half  the 
time  based  on?  vanity,  vanity,  and  the  deuce  a  thing  else.  The 
young  lady  is  handsome,  no,  that's  not  the  word,  she  is  beautiful, 
and  is  a  belle,  and  all  the  young  fellows  are  in  her  train.  To  win 
the  prize  is  an  object  of  ambition.  The  gentleman  rides  well,  hunts 
and  shoots  well, -and  does  everything  well,  and  moreover  he  is  a 
fancy  man,  and  all  the  girls  admire  him.  It  is  a  great  thing  to 
conquer  the  hero,  aint  iti  and  distance  all  her  companions ;  and  it 
is  a  proud  thing  for  him  to  win  the  prize  from  higher,  richer,  and 
more  distinguished  men  than  himself.  It  is  the  triumph  of  the  two 
sexes.  They  are  allowed  to  be  the  handsomest  couple,  ever  mar- 
ried  in  that  church.  What  an  elegant  man,  what  a  lovely  woman, 
what  a  splendid  bride!  they  seemed  made  for  each  other!  how- 
happy  they  both  are,  eyes  can't  show — words  can't  express  it ; 
they  are  the  admiration  of  all. 

If  it  is  in  England,  they  have  two  courses  of  pleasure  before 
them—to  retire  to  a  country-house  or  travel.  The  latter  is  a  great 
bore,  it  exposes  people,  it  is  very  c  ^loying  to  be  stared  at.  Soli- 
tude is  the  thing.  They  are  all  +be  world  to  each  other,  what  do 
they  de>.ire  beyond  it — what  more  can  they  aslc?  They  are  quite 
happy.  How  long  does  it  last  1  for  thov  have  no  resources  beyond 
excitement.  Why,  it  lasts  till  the  fi-st  juicy  day  comes,  and  that 
comes  soon  in  England,  and  the  bridegrooni  don't  get  up  and  look 
out  of  the  window,  on  the  cloudy  sky,  the  fill  ling  rain,  and  the  in- 
undated  meadows,  and  think  to  himself,  "  well,  this  is  too  much 
bush,  aint  it?  I  wonder  what  de  Courcy  and  de  Lacy  and  ^e 
Devilcourt  are  about  to  day  1 "  and  then  turn  round  with  a  yawn 
that  nearly  dislocates  his  jaw.  Not  a  bit  of  it.  He  is  the  most 
happy  man  in  England,  and  his  wife  is  an  angel,  and  he  don't  throw 
himself  down  on  a  sofa  and  wish  they  were  back  in  town.  It  aint 
natural  he  should ;  and  she  don't  say,  "  Charles,  you  look  dull 
dear,"  nor  he  reply  '  Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  it  is  devlish  dull 
here,  that's  a  fact,"  nor  she  say,  "  Why  you  are  very  complimen- 
tary,"  nor  he  rejoin,  "No,  I  dont't  mean  it  as  a  compliment,  but 
to  state  it  as  a  fact,  what  that  Yankee,  what  is  his  name,  vSam  Slick, 
or  Jim  Crow,  or  Uncle  Tom,  or  somebody  or  another  calls  an 
established  flxct !  "  Her  eyes  don't  fill  with  tears  at  that,  nor  does 
she  retire  to  her  room  and  pout  and  have  a  good  cry  ;  why  should 
she  1  she  is  so  happy,  and  when  the  honied  honeymoon  is  over, 
they  will  return  to  town  and  all  will  be  sunshine  once  more. 

But  there  is  one  little  thing  both  of  them  f  )rget,  which  they  find 
out  when  they  do  return.  They  have  rather,  just  a  little  "over- 
looked, or  undervalued  means,  and  they  can't  keep  such  an  estab- 
lishment as  they  desire,  or  equal  to  their  former  friends.  They  are 
both  no  longer  single.  He  is  not  asked  so  often  where  he  used  to 
bft,  nor  courted  and  flattered  as  he  lately  was ;  and  she  is  a  niai*- 


'  n 


I 


282 


THE     HONEYMOON. 


ried  woman  now,  and  the  beans  no  longer  cluster  around  her. 
Each  one  thinks  the  other  the  eanse  of  this  dreadful  change.  It 
was  the  imprudent  and  unfortunate  match  did  it.  Aflfwction  was 
sacrificed  to  pride,  and  that  deity  can't  and  won't  help  them,  but 
takes  pleasure  in  tormentinjj  them.  First  comes  coldness,  and  then 
estranfjement ;  after  that  words  ensue,  that  don't  sound  like  the 
voice  of  true  love,  and  they  fish  on  their  own  hook,  seek  their  own 
remedy,  take  their  own  road,  and  one  or  the  other,  perhaps  both, 
find  that  road  leads  to  the  devil. 

Thei\  there  is  the  "  ring-fence  match,"  which  happens  every, 
where.  Two  estates  or  plantations,  or  farms  adjoin,  and  there  is 
an  only  son  in  one,  and  an  only  daughter  in  the  other ;  and  the 
world,  and  fiithers,  and  mothers,  think  what  a  suitable  match  it 
would  be,  and  what  a  grand  thing  a  ring-fence  is,  and  they  cook  it 
up  in  the  most  fashionable  style,  and  the  parties  most  concerned 
take  no  interest  in  it,  and  having  nothing  particular  to  object  to, 
marry.  Well,  strange  to  say,  half  the  time  it  don't  turn  out  bad, 
for  as  they  don't  expect  much,  they  can't  be  much  disappointed. 
They  get  after  a  while  to  love  each  other  from  habit ;  and  finding 
qualities  they  didn't  look  for,  end  by  getting  amazin'  fond  of  each 
other. 

Next  is  a  cash-match.  Well,  that's  a  cheat.  It  begins  in  dis- 
simulation, and  ends  in  detection  and  punishment.  I  don't  pity  the 
parties ;  it  serves  them  right.  They  meet  without  pleasure,  and 
part  without  pain.  The  first  time  I  went  to  Nova  Scotia  to  vend 
clocks,  I  fell  in  with  a  Gc.'nian  officer,  who  married  a  woman  with 
a  large  fortune  ;  she  had  as  much  as  three  hundred  pounds.  He 
could  never  speak  of  it  without  getting  up,  walking  round  the  room, 
rubbing  his  hands,  and  smacking  his  lips.  The  greatest  man  he 
ever  saw,  his  own  prince,  had  only  five  hundred  a-year,  and  his 
daughters  had  to  select  and  buy  the  chickens,  wipe  the  glasses, 
starch  their  own  muslins,  and  see  the  fine  soap  made.  One  half 
of  them  were  protestants,  and  the  other  half  Catholics,  so  as  to  bait 
the  hooks  for  royal  fish  of  either  creed.  They  were  poor  and  proud, 
but  he  hadn't  a  morsel  of  pride  in  him,  for  he  had  condescended  to 
marry  the  daughter  of  a  staff  surgeon  ;  and  she  warn't  poor,  for 
she  had  three  hundred  pounds.  He  couldn't  think  of  nothin'  but 
his  fortune.  Tie  spent  the  most  of  his  time  in  building  castles,  not 
in  Germany,  but  in  the  air,  for  they  cost  nothing.  He  used  to 
delight  to  go  marooning*  for  a  day  or  of  two  in  Maitland  settle- 
ment, where  old  soldiers  are  located,  and  measured  every  man  he 
met  by  the  gauge  of  his  purse.  "  Dat  poor  teevil,"  he  would  say, 
"is  wort  twenty  pounds,  well  I  am  good  for  tree  hundred,  in  gold 
and  silver,  and  provinch  notes,  and  de  mortgage  on  Burkit  Crowse's 

*  Marooning  diflbrs  from  pic-nicking  in  this — the  former  continues  several 
days,  the  other  lasts  but  one. 


THE    HONEYMOON. 


288 


her :  and  the 


ntinues  several 


farm  for  twenty-five  pounds  ten  shillings  and  eleven  pence  halfpenny 
— fifteen  times  as  much  as  he  is,  pesides  ten  pounds  interest."  If 
ho  rode  a  horse,  he  calculated  how  many  he  co\i!d  purchase;  and 
he  found  they  would  make  an  cvcrlastiu'  cahoot.*  If  he  sailed  in 
a  boat,  he  counted  the  flotilla  he  could  buy  ;  and  at  last  he  used 
to  think,  "  Veil  now,  if  my  vrow  would  go  tode  depot  (graveyard) 
vat  is  near  to  de  church,  Goton  llimmel,  mid  my  fortune  I  could 
marry  any  pody  1  liked,  who  had  shtock  of  cattle,  shtock  of  clothes, 
and  shtock  in  de  park,  pesides  farms  and  foresht  lands,  and  dyko 
lands,  and  meadow  lands,  and  vind-mill  and  vater-mill ;  but  dere 
is  no  ehanse  she  shall  die,  for  I  was  dirty  (thirty)  when  I  marrfod 
her,  and  she  was  dirty-too  (thirty-two.)  Tree  hundred  pounds! 
Veil,  it's  a  great  shum  ;  but  vat  shall  I  do  mid  it.  If  1  leave  him 
mid  a  lawyer,  ho  say,  Mr.  Von  Sheik,  you  gub  it  to  me.  If  I  put 
him  into  de  pank,  den  to  ting  shall  break,  and  my  fortcn  go  smash, 
squash — vot  dey  call  von  shilling  in  de  pound.  If  1  lock  him  up, 
den  soldier  steal  and  desert  away,  and  conetry  people  shall  hide 
him,  and  I  will  not  find  him  no  more,  I  shall  mortgage  it  on  a 
farm.  I  feel  vary  goot,  vary  pig,  and  vary  rich.  If  I  would  not 
lose  my  bay  and  commission,  1  would  kick  do  colonel,  kiss  his  vife, 
and  put  my  cane  thro'  his  vindcr.  I  don't  care  von  damn  for 
nopoty  no  more," 

W'  M,  his  wife  soon  afi;er  that  took  a  day  and  died ;  and  he  fol- 
lowed her  to  the  grave.  It  was  the  first  tir'^.e  he  ever  gave  her  pre- 
cedence, for  he  was  a  disciplinarian;  he  knew  the  difference  of 
"rank  and  file,"  and  liked  to  give  the  word  of  command,  "  Hear 
rank,  take  open  order — march  !"  Well,  I  condolod  with  him  about 
his  loss.  Sais  he  :  "  Mr.  Shlick,  I  didn't  lose  much  by  her :  The 
soldier  carry  her  per  order,  de  pand  play  for  noting,  and  de  crape 
on  de  arm  came  from  her  ponnet." 

"  But  the  loss  of  your  wife  1"  said  I. 

Well,  that  excited  him,  and  he  began  to  talk  Hessian.  ^^  Jubes 
rennvare  dolorem^^''  said  he. 

"  I  don't  understand  High  Dutch,'  sals  I,  "  when  it's  spoke  so 
almighty  fast." 

"  It's  a  ted  language,"  said  he, 

I  was  a  goin  to  tell  him  I  didn't  know  the  dead  had  any  language, 
but  I  bit  in  my  breath. 

"Mr.  Shlick,"  said  he,  "  de  vife  is  gone,"  (and  clapping  his  waist- 
coat pocket  with  his  hand,  and  grinning  like  a  chissy  cat)  he  added, 
"  but  de  moiiish  remain.'''' 

Yfs,  such  fellows  as  Von  Sheik  don't  call  this  ecclesiastical  and 
civil  contract,  wedlock.  They  use  a  word  that  expresses  their 
meaning  better — matri-7wo«ey.     Well,  even  money  aint  all  gold, 

*  Cahoot  is  one  of  ths  new  coinage,  and;  in  Mexico,  means  a  band,  or  cavaU 
cade. 


IPffi 


284 


THE     HONKYMOOW, 


.» 


f    5 


for  there  are  two  hundred  and  forty  nasty,  dirty,  mulatto-looking 
copper  pennies  in  a  sovereijjn  ;  and  they  have  the  alfectation  to 
call  the  (ilthy  incrustation  if  tliey  happen  to  be  ancient  coin,  verd 
antique.  Weil,  fnie  words  are  like  Hue  dresses;  one  often  covers 
ideas  that  ain't  nice,  and  the  other  sometimes  conceals  garments 
that  are  a  little  the  worse  for  wear.  Ambition  is  just  as  poor  a 
motive.  It  can  only  be  gratified  at  the  expense  of  a  journey  over 
a  rough  road,  and  he  is  a  fool  v/ho  travels  it  by  a  borrov/ed  light, 
and  generally  finds  he  takes  a  rise  out  of  himself. 

Then  there  is  a  class  like  Von  Sheik,  "  who  feel  so  pig  and  so 
hugeaciously  grandiferous,"  they  look  on  a  wife's  fortune  with 
contempt.  The  independent  man  scorns  connection,  station,  and 
money.  He  has  got  all  three,  and  more  of  each  than  is  sufficient 
for  a  dozen  men.  lie  regards  with  utter  indifference  the  opinion 
of  the  world,  and  its  filse"  notions  of  life.  He  can  aff()rd  to  please 
himself;  he  does  not  stoop  if  ho  marries  beneath  his  own  rank ; 
for  he  is  able  to  elevate  any  wife  to  his.  He  is  a  great  admirer  of 
beauty,  which  is  confined  to  no  circle  and  no  region.  The  world  is 
before  him,  and  he  will  select  a  woman  to  gratify  himself  and  not 
another.  He  has  the  right  and  ability  to  do  so,  and  he  fulfils  his 
intention.  Now  an  independent  man  is  an  immovable  one,  until 
ho  is  proved,  and  a  soldier  is  brave  until  the  day  of  trial  comes. 
He,  however,  is  independent  and  brave  enough  to  set  the  opinion 
of  the  world  at  defiance,  and  he  marries.  Until  then,  society  is 
passive,  but  when  defied  and  disobeyed,  it  is  active,  bitter,  and 
relentless. 

The  conflict  is  only  commenced — marrying  is  merely  firing  the 
first  gun.  The  battle  has  yet  to  be  fought.  If  he  can  do  without 
the  world,  the  world  cr.n  do  without  him,  but,  if  he  enters  it  again 
bride  in  hand,  he  must  fight  his  way  inch  liy  inch,  and  step  by  step. 
She  is  slighted  and  he  is  stung  to  the  quick.  She  is  ridiculed  and 
he  is  mortified  to  death.  He  is  able  to  meet  open  resistance,  but 
he  is  for  ever  in  dread  of  an  ambuscade.  He  sees  a  sneer  in  every 
smile,  he  fears  an  insult  in  every  whisper.  The  unmeaning  jest 
must  have  a  hidden  point  for  him.  Politeness  secnis  cold,  even 
good-nature  looks  like  the  insolence  of  condescension.  If  his  wife 
is  addressed,  it  is  manifestly  to  draw  her  out.  If  her  society  is  not 
sought,  it  is  equally  plain  there  is  a  conspiracy  to  place  her  in 
Coventry.  To  defend  her  properly,  and  to  put  her  on  her  guard  it 
is  necessary  he  should  know  her  weak  points  himself. 

But,  alas,  in  this  painful  investigation,  his  ears  are  wounded  by 
flilse  accents,  his  eyes  by  false  motions  and  vulgar  attitudes,  ho 
finds  ignorance  Avhere  ignorance  is  absurd,  and  knowledge  where 
knowledge  is  shame,  and  what  is  worse,  this  distressing  criticism 
has  been  forced  upon  him,  and  he  has  arrived  at  the  conclusion 
that  beauty  without  intelligence,  is  the  most  vaiueless  attribute  of 


A     DISH     OF    CLAMS. 


286 


0  woman.  Alas,  the  world  is  an  argns-eyed,  many-headed,  sleep, 
less,  hef.ftiess  monster.  The  independent  man,  if  'he  would  retam 
his  independence,  must  rcti-e  with  his  wife  to  his  own  home  and 
It  would  be  a  pity  if  in  thinking  of  his  defeat  he  was  to  ask  himself 

■TiTr^.PT^"^  ^*'^'  "^"^'^^  ^'"^  terrible  struggle  after  all  ?  wouldn't 
It  ?  Weil  I  pity  that  man,  for  at  most  he  has  only  done  a  foolish 
thing,  and  he  has  not  passed  through  life  without  beinrr  a  public 
benefactor.  Re  has  held  a  reversed  lamp.  While  he  has  walked  in 
the  dark  himself,  he  has  shed  light  on  the  path  of  others. 

Ah,  Sophy,  when  you  read  this,  and  I  know  you  will,  you'll  say 
what  a  dreadful  picture  you  have  drawn;  it  ain't  like  you— you 
are  too  good-natured,  I  can't  believe  you  ever  wrote  so  spite- 
tul  un  article  as  this,  and  woman  like,  make  more  complimentarv 
remarks  than  I  deserve.  Well,  it  ain't  like  me,  that's  a  fact,  but 
It 's  like  the  world  for  all  that.  Well  then  you  will  puzzle  your  little 
head  whether  after  all  there  is  any  happiness  in  married  life,  won't 
you?  ' 

Well,  I  will  answer  that  question.  I  believe  there  may  be  and 
are  many  very  many  happy  marriages ;  but  then  people  must  be 
as  near  as  possible  in  the  same  station  of  life,  their  tempers  com- 
patiblc,  their  religious  views  the  same,  their  notions  of  the  world 
similar,  and  their  union,  based  on  mutual  affection,  entire  mutual 
confidence,  and  what  is  of  the  utmost  consequence,  the  greatest  pos- 
sible  mutual  respect.  Can  you  feel  this  towards  me,  Sophy,  can 
you,  dear  ?  Then  be  quick—"  pick  up  chips  and  call  your  father 
to  dinner." 


].♦. 


»      — 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
A   DISH   OF    CLAMS. 


Eating  is  the  chief  occupation  at  sea.     It's  the  great  topic    as 


.      -  -        ^  philosophy 

of  Jife.     It  there  is  a  good  dish  and  a  bad  one  set  before  me,  I  am 
something  of  a  rat,  1  always  choose  the  best. 

There  are  few  animals,  as  there  are  few  men,  that  we  can't  learn 
something  from.  Now  a  rat,  altho;.„h  I  bate  him  like  pyson,  is  a 
travelling  gentleman,  and  accommodates  himself  to  circumstances. 
He  likes  to  visit  people  that  are  well  off,  and  has  a  free  and  easy 
way  about  him.  and  don't  require  an  introduction.     He  does  nol 


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A.    DISH    OF    OLAMfl. 


wait  to  be  pressed  to  eat,  but  helps  himself,  and  does  justice  to  his 
host  and  his  viands.     When  hungrv,  he  will  walk  into  the  larder 
and  take  a  lunch  or  a  supper  without  requiring  any  waiting  on! 
He  is  abstemious,  or  rather  temperate  in  his  drinking.     Molasses 
and  syrup  he  prefers  to  strong  liquors,  and  he  is  a  connoisseur  in 
all  things  pei-taining  to  the  dessert.     He  is  fond  of  ripe  fruit,  and 
dry  or  liquid  preserves,  the  latter  of  which  he  eats  with  cream,  for 
which  purpose  he  forms  a  passage  to  the  dairy.     He  piides  him- 
self on  his  knowledge  of  cheese,  and  will  tell  you  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye  which  is  the  best  in  point  of  flavor  or  richness.     Still  ht 
is  not  proud — he  visits  the  poor  when  there  is  no  gentlemen  in  the 
neighborhood,,  and  can  accommodate  himself  to  coarse  fare  and 
poor  cookery.     To  see  him  in  one  of  these  hovels,  you  would 
think  he  never  knew  anything  better,  for  he  has  a  capital  appetite 
and  can  content  himself  with  mere  bread  and  water.    He  is  a  wise 
traveller,  too.     He  is  up  to  the  ways  of  the  world,  and  is  aware 
of  the  disposition  there  is  everywhere  to  entrap  strangers.    He 
knows  how  to  take  care  of  himself.    If  he  is  ever  deceived,  it  is  by 
treachery.     He  is  seized  sometimes  at  the  hospitable  board,  and 
assassinated,  or  perhaps   cruelly  poisoned.     But  what  skill  can 
ensure  safety  where  confidence  is  so  shamefully  abused  ?     He  is  a 
capital  sailor,  even  bilge-water  don't  make  him  squeamish,  and  he 
is  so  good  a  judge  of  the  sea- worthiness  of  a  ship,  that  he  leaves 
her  at  the  first  port,  if  he  finds  she  is  leaky  or  weak.     Few  archi 
tects,  on  the  other  hand,  have  such  a  knowledge  of  the  stability  of 
a  house  as  he  has.     He  examines  its  foundations  thoroughly,  and 
if  he  perceives  any,  the  slightest  chance  of  its  falling,  he  retreats  in 
season,  and  leaves  it  to  its  fate.     In  short,  he  is  a  model  traveller 
and  much  may  be  learned  from  him.  ' 

But  then,  who  is  perfect  1  He  has  some  serious  faults,  from 
which  we  may  also  take  instructive  lessons,  so  as  to  avoid  them. 
He  runs  all  over  a  house,  sits  up  late  at  night,  and  makes  a  devil 
of  a  noise.  He  is  a  nasty,  cross-grained  critter,  and  treacherous 
even  to  those  who  feed  him  best.  He  is  very  dirty  in  his  habits, 
and  spoils  as  much  food  as  he  eats.  If  a  door  ain't  left  open  for 
him,^  he  cuts  right  through  it,  and  if  by  accident  he  is  locked  in,  ho 
won't  wait  to  be  let  out,  but  hacks  a  passage  slap  through  the  floor. 
Not  content  with  being  entertained  himself,  he  brings  a  whole  reti- 
nue with  him,  and  actilly  eats  a  feller  out  of  house  and  home,  and 
gets  as  sassy  as  a  free  nigger.  Pie  gets  into  the  servant-gall's  bed- 
room sometimes  at  night,  and  nearly  scares  her  to  death  under 
pretence  he  wants  her  candl- ;  and  sometimes  jumps  right  on  to 
the  bed,  and  says  she  is  handsome  enough  to  eat,  gives  her  a  nip 
on  the  nose,  sneezes  on  her  with  great  contempt,  and  tells  her  she 
takes  snuff".     The  fact  is,  he  is  hated  everywhere  he  travels  for  his 


A     DISH     OF    0LAM8. 


287 


death  under 


vgly  behavior  as  much  as  an  Enclishman.  and  that  is  a  great  deal 
more  than  sin  is  by  half  the  A^orfd.  ^ 

Now,  being  fond  of  natur,  I  try  to  take  lessons  from  all  created 
critters.  I  copy  the  rat's  travelling  knowledge  and  good  po'nts  as 
near  as  possible,  and  strive  to  avoid  the  bad."  I  confine  w"?  L 
the  company  apartments,  and  them  that's  allotted  to  me  Ilav  « 
no  fami  y,  1  take  no  body  with  me  a-visitin,  keep  gooHours  and 
give  as  imle  trouble  as  possible;  and  as  for  goin  to  thrser^ant 

rrnd  lz:::t:^''^z:'''^'  ^'^-^^  ^" '''-  --^'  --^^^^- 

"Sorrow,  what  have  you  got  for  us  to-day  1" 

Ihere  is  the  moose-meat,  Massa." 
I'Let  that  hang  over  the  stern,  we  shall  get  tired  of  it." 
afunnrnamr\I  ^'  t  ^'^fr'T'^  i^y  goily,  Massa,  dat  is 

1^' Well,  the  turkey  had  better  hang  over,  too  " 
feposen  I  git  you  a  fish  dinner  to-day,  Massa?" 
VV  hat  have  you  got  ?" 
"  Some  tobacco  pipes,  Massa,  and  some  miller's  thumbs  *    The 
rascal  expected  to  take  a  rise  out  of  me,  but  I  was  too  wid"e  .wake 
for  him.     Cutler  and  the  Doctor,  strange  to  say,  fell  ^70  tLTrao 
and  required  an  explanation,  which  delighted  Sorrow  amLi^Z' 

at"  r  'Anl'hTn 't'^'rr  ^"  ^'/i^-^'  ^^d"''  kn'owThes  th 
at  ali.     And  ihe  Doctor  had  some  difficulty  in  reco^rnisinff  th-m 
under  names  he  had  never  heard  of  before.  "=^^^s^«g  tn-.m, 

"  Let  us  have  them." 
*'  Well,  there  is  a  fresh  salmon,  Massa  ?" 

Let  us  have  steaks  ofl^  of  it.     Do  them  as  I  told  you  and  talc« 
cai-e  the  paper  don't  catch  fire,  and  don't  let  the  coals  smoke  'em 
Serve  some  lobster  sauce  with  them,  but  use  no  butter   ^tspoHs 
salmon.     Let  us  have  some  hoss-radish  with  it."  '        ^^^^ 

Hoss  radish  !  yah,  yah,  yah  !     Why,  Massa,  whar  under  the 

"•^ct  Ha'^k  r^C  "°\^  T'^  ^''  ^---d-h,  on  board  ob  di 
«^A    tu     u  ^  '^^  ^""^^^  '"^o  "V  garden  de  oder  niffht 

and   kil    ebery  created  ting  in  it.     Lord  a  massy,  Massa    vou 

tn  tVr'T  ^"'  "  fi«l^'"-«raft,  salt  pork  and  faters Te  lay 
and  salt  beef  and  taters  next  day,  den  twice  laid  for  third  dav  and 
den  begin  agin.  Why,  <Iere  neber  has  been  no  coo  ctg  on  Crd 
S  ,„'  In'''  ^'^^^■^"'^-ffter  till  you  yourself  corned  on  bofrd      Dey 

lltw  ""^"-     ^7  ''  ^'  ^^"P'd'  ^"d  ^g"«^a«t  as  coots."        ^ 
Heio  h<s  eye  rested  on  the  Captain,  when,  with  the  greatest 

' 'St  aP''  r  '  ""^'^'  ^"^  ^'^"^  ^"  ^^^thout  stoppfnl 
bcept  Massa  Captain,"  said  he,  "  and  he  do  know  what  is 
good,  dat  ar  a  fact,  but  he  don't  like  \o  be  ticular.  so  he  t^keAama 


288 


A     DISH     OF    0LAM8. 


fare  as  men,  and  dey  isn't  jealous.     *  Sorrow,'  sais  he,  '  irake  no 

fareTmen.-'*       ''  "''^  '^  ^'"''  '^"^''  '"'  ^'^^  P"*  "P  ^^^  ««°^« 
"Sorrow,"  said  the  Captain,  "how  can  you  tell  such  a  bare, 
taced  fi^sehood.     What  an  impudent  liar  you  are,  to  talk  so  before 
my  face.     J  never  said  anything  of  the  kind  to  you  " 

"Why    Massa,  now,"  said   Sorrow,   » dis   here  child  is  wide 

awake,  that  ar  a  fac,  and  no  mistake,  and  it's  onpossil  e  he  is  a 

dreaming.    What  is  it  you  did  say  den,  wher  you  ordered  dinner  V 

1  gave  my  orders  and  said  nothing  more." 

«  Exactly,  Massa,  I  knowed  I  was  right ;  dat  is  de'identical  tinir 

said.     You  was  used  to  better  tings;  you  made  no  stinctions 

Sli"^'  f -f  K      uV  '^T/T  ^J"^^  ^^  y^"-     Hoss-raddish,  Massa 
Slick,     said  he,  "  I  wish  I  had  some,  oi  could  get  some  ashore 
for  you    but  hoss-raddisn  ain't  French,  and  dese  folks  nebber  hear 
tell  ob  him.    ' 
"  Make  some." 

II  Oh,  Massa,  now  you  is  makin'  fun  ob  dis  poor  nigger." 
^    "  1  am  not.     Take  a  turnip,  scrape  it  the  same  as  the'raddish 
mto  fine  shaving,  mix  it  with  fresh  mustard,  and  a  little  pepper 
and  vinegar,  and  you  can't  tell  it  from  't'other."  ' 

"i^/  f%»  Massa,  but  dat  are  a  wrinkle.     Oh,  how  Misses 
would  a  lubbed  you.     It  was  'loud  all  down  sout  dere  was  a  ffreat 
deal  ob  finement  in  her.     Nobody  was  good  nuff  for  her  dere  -dey 
had  no  taste  for  cookin'.     She  was  mighty  high  'among  de  ladies  iii 
de  instep,  but  not  a  mossel  ob  pride  to  de  niggers.     Oh   vou 
would  a  walked  right  into  de  cockles  ob  her  heart.     If  you  had 
tredded  up  to  her  she  would  a  married  you,  and  gub  you  her  tree 
plantations,  and  eight  hundred  niggers,  and  ebery  ting,  and  order 
dinner  for  you  herself.     Oh,  wouldn't  she  been  done,  gone  'stracted 
wheii  you  showed  her  how  she  had  shot  her  grandmother?  wouldn't 
she  1  I'll  be  dad  fetched  if  she  wouldn't."* 
"  Have  you  any  other  fish  ?"  I  said. 
"  Oh,  yes,  Massa,  some  grand  fresh  claras." 
"  Do  you  know  how  to  cook  them  ?" 

"  Massa,"  said  he,  putting  his  hands  under  his  white  apron,  and 
sailor-hke,  giving  a  hitch-up  to  his  trousers,  preparatory  to  stretch! 
ing  himselt  straight;  "Massa,  dis  here  nigger  is  a  rambitlous 
nigger,  and  he  kersaits  he  can  take  de  shine  out  ob  any  nigger  that 
ever  played  de  juice  harp,  in  cookin'  clams.  Misses  'structed  me 
husself  Massa,  I  shall  nebber  forget  dat  time  de  longest  day  I 
Jive.  She  sent  for  me,  she  did,  and  I  went  in,  and  she  was  lyin'  on 
de  sofa,  lookin  pale  as  de  inside  of  parsimmon  seed,  for  de  wedder 
was  brilin'  hot. 

*  Shooting  one's  granny,  or  grandmother,  means  fancying  you  have  discovar 
ed  what  was  well  known  before. 


A    DISH    OF    CLAMS. 


289 


"'Sorrow,' said  she. 
"'Yes,  Missus,'  said  I. 

you,  l^ntf"  '""^''  "^  '"^-     ^»'  "  *V  »aid  ehe  j  ■  tank 

<!l,l'*^w^'"'^]'°"  ^f'"''^''  '^'  ™  fro™  Abulitinists  to- Boston 

skarse;  you  is  as  black  as  the  debbil's  hind  leg.'    And  den  ste 

T^nwlT.'^^^'"'''*^  ""^Z  ™3^ ankles,  to  keep  de bominable  flies  ofT 
Tankee,  Sorrow ;  you  is  far  more  handier  dan  Aunt  Dolly  is  mi 
are  nigga  is  so  rumbustious,  she  jerks  my  close  so  somSmi:  J 

become  oh  d.s  nigger  if  you  do  ?  If  de  Lord,  in  his  goodness  tiki 
you  awa>    ,et  me  go  wid  you,  lUssusV  and      was  sfsorrr?'  W 

Why,  Uncle  Sorrow,'  said  she,  'I  isn't  a  goin'  to  die-  wh«f 
makes  you  tnik  dat?     Stand  up  :  I  do  railly  bSe  yoTdo  lub 

rhi:kf;!'"and  ^Itt.^'T  ""^-P^^^  >'«'-^^^  out'a^glt  "b 
I  w!{  '  ^  1^°^^  ^"^  ^^  closet— just  dis  way— and  dere  stood 
d^e  bottle  and  a  glass-as  dis  here  one  do-and  'j  helpt  myLlf  d's 

I  lookTo  ni?'""^'  ^'"'  '^"'^  ^  ™  ^  S^^"'  ^^^  *°  ^^«''  «^i^  she  ?  '  do 

viuam.  He  is  uglier  and  yallerer  den  Aunt  Phillissv  AnnA'- 
crooked-necked  squashes.  I  don't  want  to  see  nrmore^b  such 
fel  ers,  pysonm  de  minds  ob  de  niggers  here.'  ^ 

I*  »ays  he,  *  my  man.' 

"  '  I  isn't  a  man,'  sais  I,  '  I  is  only  a  nigger.' 

^^  ^  Poor,  Ignorant  wretch,'  says  he. 

Massa,'  sais  I,  «you  has  waked  up  de  wrons  Dassen«rer  di, 
present  tune.     I  isn't  poor,  I  ab  plenty  to  eat,  and  11^"'^  to  drii^k 

d  two  great  trong  wenches  to  help  me  cook,  and^  Sv  ob  fine 

wants  money  I  asks  Missus,  ai:d  she  aives  it  to  me-  and  I  ab  white 

nTsTan  itoTtT'-  '"•  "^^-     ^-  '  wanL'^ild  ducks  o 
anri  wkn   Jnl  V^  ^"^ ''  ^°  '^^  *^  ^"^^  Yankee  oberseer,  « Missus 
and  1  want  some  deer  or  some  canyas-back  j  I  spect  you  had  better 


liWI 


290 


A     DISH    0?     CLAMS. 


\^^  V 


go  look  for  some,  Massa  Buctra.'  No,  no,  Massa,  I  ain't  so 
ignorant  as  to  let  any  man  come  over  mo  to  make  seed  corn  outob 
me,  If  you  want  to  see  -vvrctcheb,  go  to  Jamestown,  and  see  de 
poor  white  critters,  dat  ab  to  do  all  dere  own  work  dey selves  cause 
dey  are  so  poor  dey  ab  no  niggers  to  do  it  for  em.'  ' 

"Sais  he,  'habyou  ebber  tort  ob  dat  long  long  Journey  dat  is 
afore  you  1  to  dat  hv  cff  connteree  where  you  will  be  mancipated 
and  free,  where  de  -vveary  hab  no  i-est,  and  de  wicked  hab  to  labor  ^' 
'-  'Down  to  Boston,  I  suppose,  Massa,'  sais  I,  '"mong  dem  peii- 
tentionists  and  ablutionists.  Massa,  ablution  is  a  a>eai>,  nasty  dirty 
ting,^  and  don't  suit  niggers  what  hab  good  Missus  likt  me,  and  I 
won  t  take  dat  journey,  and  I  hate  dat  cold  country,  aiid  I  want 
nottin  to  do  wid  mansipationists.' 

"  '  It  tain't  dat,'  sais  he  •  its  up  above.' 

"  '  yj^'^^t,'  sais  I,  ' up  dere  in  de  mountains'?  What  onder  de  sun 
should  I  go  dere  for  to  be  froze  to  defth,  or  to  be  vourcd  by  wild 
beasts.     Massa,  I  woii't  go  no  where  widout  dear  Missus  goes  ' 

" '  I  mean  Heaben,'  he  said,  '  where  all  are  free  and  all  equal  • 
where  jot/  is,  and  sorroio  enters  not.' 

^  "  'What,'  sais  I,  'Jay  in  Heaben  ?  I  don't  believe  one  word  ob 
It.  Joy  was  de  greatest  tief  on  all  dese  tree  plantations  of 
Missus ;  he  stole  more  chicken,  and  corn,  and  backey,  dan  his  great 
bull  neck  was  worth,  and  when  he  ran  off,  Missus  wouldn't  let  no 
?,T,,  'J^  f"""  ^""-  "^^y  '"^  Heaben,  eh !  and  Sorrow  neber  go  dere. 
Well,  I  Clare  now!  Yah,  yah,  yah,  Massa,  you  is  fooliu  dis  here 
niggar  now,  I  know  you  is,  when  you  say  Joy  is  dead  and  gone  to 
Jleaben,  and  dis  child  is  shut  out  for  ebber.  Massa,'  sais  I,  'me 
and  Missus  don't  'low  ablution  talk  here,  on  no  account  whatsonv 
ever;  de  cnly  lammin  we  lows  of  is  wbippin  fellows  who  tice  ni<r- 
gars  to  rections,  and  de  slaves  of  dis  plantation  will  lam  you  a's 
sure  as  you  is  I  -  vvn,  for  dey  lub  Missus  dearly.  You  had  better 
kuramence  de  loi,,  journey  usself.  Sallust,  bring  out  dis  gintleman 
boss  ?  and  Plutarch,  go  fetch  de  saddle-bag  down.' 

"  I  led  his  boss  by  where  de  dogs  was,  and,  sais  I,  '  Massa,  I  oan'fc 
help  Jarhn  no  how  I  can  fix  it,  at  dat  ar  story  you  told  me  about 
dat  young  ra^scal  Joy.  Dat  story  do  smell  rader  tall,  dat  are  a  flic : 
yah,  yah,  yah,  and  I  fell  down  and  rolled  ober  and  ober  on  de 
grass,  and  it's  lucky  t  did,  for  as  J  dodged  he  fetched  a  back  handed 
blow  at  me  wid  his  huntin  whip,  that  would  a  cut  my  head  oil  if 
It  had  tooked  me  roimd  my  neck. 

"  My  Missu^  larfed  right  out  like  any  ting,  tho'  it  was  so  hot,  and 
When  Missus  larf,  I  always  know  she  is  good-natured. 

" '  Sorrow,'  said  Missus,  '  I  am  afraid  you  is  more  rogue  dan 
fool,  ''  *= 

"'Missus,'  sais  I,  '  I  nebber  stole  the  vally  of  a  pin's  head  off  ob 
dis  plantation.    I  scorn  to  do  such  a  nasty,  dirty,  mean  action,  and 


A    DISH     <JF    CLAMS 


S91 


you  80  kind  as  to  gib  me  more  nor  I  want,  and  you  knows  daf 

fcl'  T  ^"^^  '''  '^"""''^  y^^  ^^"Idn't  send^me  to  de  bank 
instead  Ob  white  oberse^r.  Mr.  Succatash,  for  six,  seben  or  eisr'iC 

heTe  al  '"'''  '1^^^^^''     ^"^  ^^^^  ''  ^««  much' stealln  goin J^n 

^^::i:^^' '^ ''^^^"^' ^^^^^ ^^ --^'*-^^-  you is^t^o^duT 

" '  1  didn't  mean  that,  Sorrow '  she  said  «T  /inn'f  tv,«o      *    t    > 
"  '  WpII  at i«=.,c  « I'     1  J  Y    1         ,      '   ^  "^"^  *  ™6^"  steahn.' 

you^'tra^id'deJ'w?  *"1'"  •>?»>''''";'■>.  >nd  ^o  scared  abo«. 
rtere  she^nldT  "i'T''^'    '"'^  '  ''«?'  "»>'•  '»  her  side, 

lis  way    fo^k llT''  ™'^  '  ^'"'"''i  "^'^  ■"""«  "P.  «"d  advanced 

naturcdj     dcre  is  nuttin  dere,  see  if  dere  isn't  some  in  de  oder 

p;":^  .Ton't  T.i^  ""<'  ^^' ''  0°™'  -"  '"^ ''  "p  '0  h:,td^ 

"Slick,''  said  Cutler,  "  I  am  astonished  at  you ;  you  are  encoura^ 

fh  itef  "andT'  "  ^^^^^  ^^  ^»^-"'g  hiito  m:raX"S 
U  J  f.u'  /  he  went  on  deck  to  attend  to  his  duty  saviiiff  as 
he  shut  the  door,  "  that  fellow  will  prate  all  dav  if  you  allow  hm" 
Sorrow  followed  him  with  a  very  p^eculiar  expressfonof  eye  as'ie 

ist"ilr'is  hiil't'"  ""'i  ^\  7'  '?i'^  ''  ^'  ^^^^^  '«  ^"  ^t)lution. 
when  dev  tiie  L  nVT  ^7  '^^^'  ?f  ^  ^^"  "^  ««^°^«<i  ^reddren 
ITuZl  ^  f  f""^  ^'°T'  ^"^  d^»  ^«y  «a"  "«  black  rascals 
n  i  K  i^'  ^  iV'^^  ^^^  *^  ^^"^^  ^g^"'  Yankees  treat  dere  col- 
kst  ofntin  f '  ^'^\^''^'  '^  "  '^°^'  ^"^  ^^  ^«  excellent  man, 
poss  ble  £  Tn'' -^  good  man,  and  though  I  don't  believe  it's  a 

Lnrr Ik!  !  ^/^/'  "1  ^?^^"'  '  ^'^  ^^^^^^^  ^^^  Captain,  when  de 
Lord  be  good  nuffto  take  him,  will  go  dere." 

voii  h.vf?^^^^''  ''  ''^^'"  '^^^  ['  "«<^^row,  put  down  that  bottle; 
you  have  had  more  than  enough  already-put  it  down;"  but  he 
liad  no  idea  of  obeying,  and  held  on  to  it 

ovu'^yo^r\ead.'''  ^"'  '^^'  ^^"""^  ^''''°''' '  ^  ''^^'  "  ^  ^^^^  ^'^^  '' 

rous^I;i!^r'"  '^•'^  ^"'^  "  ^^*  Y""^^  ^^  ^  '^  *«  ^aste  dis  olorife. 
nd  von  r.^    7^^i  ^f\''^  r  ^'"^'^  '^  ^^«^'  ^"d  den  I  will  stand, 

^S^r^^erettrLt^^^^^^^    ^-^^'"p"^  ^^^-"'"  -^ 

''  OM 'm  *'^  ^^  "  *?u"'  ^"""^  ^°"  ^''^  g°'"g  *»  cook  the  clams." 
Ilarned  it/'""''^'  '  "       ^^^  ""^  ^'""''^  ^^  '^'^''^  ^^°^^  ^^  ^^^ 


ipp 


hmSEB 


sea 


A    DISH     OF     GLAUS 


" '  Sorrow,'  snid  Missus,  '  I  am  going  to  take  a  long  journey  all 
de  wry  to  Boston,  and  de  wedder  is  so  cold,  and  what  is  wus  de 
people  is  so  cold,  it  makes  ne  shudder,'  and  she  shivered  like  cold 
ague  fit,  and  I  was  afruid  she  would  unjoint  the  sofa. 
"  '^  Don't  lay  too  close  to  them.  Missus,'  sais  I. 
"  *  What,'  said  she,  and  she  raised  herself  up  ofTob  de  pillar,  a&J 
she  larfed  and  rolled  ober  and  ober,  and  tosticated  about  almost  in 
a  conniption  fit.    'You  old  goose,'  said  she,  ♦you  onaccountable 
fool,'  and  den  she  larfed  and  rolled  ober  a^ain,  I  tought  sl.d  .vould 
a  tumbled  off  on  de  floor;  'do  go  way,  you  is  too  fooli&h  io  talk 
to,  but  turn  my  pillar  again.     Sorrow,'  said  she,  '  is  I  showin  of  my 
ankles,'  said  she,  'rollin  about  so  like  mad  V 
"  '  Little  bit,'  sais  I,  '  Missus.' 

" '  Den  put  dat  scarf  ober  my  feet  agin.     What  on  earth  does 
you  mean.  Sorrow,  bout  not  sleepin  too  close  to  de  Yankees.' 

"'Missus,'  sais  I,  'does  you  recollect  the  day  when  Zeno  v^as 
drownded  off  de  raft  ?  Well,  dat  day  Plutarch  was  lowed  to  visit 
next  plantation,  and  dey  bring  him  home  mazin  drunk— stupid  as 
owl,  his  mout  open  and  he  couldn't  speak,  and  his  eye  open  and  he 
couldn't  see.  Well,  as  you  don't  low  nigga  to  be  flogged,  Aunt 
Phillissy  Ann  and  I  lay  our  heads  together,  and  we  tought  we'd 
punish  him  ;  so  we  ondressed  him,  and  put  him  into  same  bed  wid 
poor  Zeno,  and  when  he  woke  up  in  de  mornin,  he  was  most 
frighten  to  def,  and  had  de  cold  chills  on  him,  and  his  eye  stared 
out  ob  his  head,  and  his  teeth  chattered  like  monkeys.  He  was  so 
frighten  we  had  to  burn  lights  for  a  week— he  tought  after  dat  he 
saw  Zeno  in  bed  wid  him  all  de  time.  It's  werry  dangerous, 
Missus,  to  sleep  near  cold  people,  like  Yankees  and  dead  nig^^rars.' ' 
" '  Sorrow,  you  is  a  knave  I  believe,'  she  said.  ° 

"  '  Knave,  knave,  Missus,'  I  sais,  '  I  don't  know  dat  word.' 
"  '  Sorrow,'  said  she,  '  1  is  agoin  to  take  you  wid  me.' 
"  '  Tank  you,  Missus,'  said  1  '  oh  I  bless  your  heart.  Missus.' " 
"  Sorrow,"  said  I,  sternly,  "  do  you  ever  intend  to  tell  us  how 
you  are  going  to  cook  them  clams,  or  do  you  mean  to  chat  all 
day  ?" 

"  Jist  in  one  minute,  Massa,  I  is  jist  comin  to  it,"  said  he. 

"^'Now,'  sais  Missus,  '  Sorrow,  it's  berry  genteel  to  travel  wid 
one's  own  cook ;  but  it  is  werry  ongenteel  when  de  cook  can't  do 
nuffin  super-superior ;  for  bad  cooks  is  plenty  ebery  where  widout 
travellin  wid  em.     It  brings  disgrace.' 

"  '  Exactly,  Missus,'  sais  I,  '  when  you  and  me  was  uo  to  de  pre- 
sident's plantation,  his  cook  ^yas  niakin  plum  pudden,  he  was.  Now 
how  in  natur  does  you  rimagine  he  did  it?  why,  Missus,  he  actilly 
made  it  wid  flour,  de  stupid  tick-headed  fool,  instead  ob  de  crumbs 
ob  a  six  cent  stale  loaf,  he  did  ;  and  he  nebber  'pared  de  gredien'.s 
de  day  afore,  as  he  had  aughten  to  do.     It  was  nuffin  but  stick  jaw 


again ; 


—  -eyes 


A    DISll     QP    CLAMS 


298 


-jist  fit  to  feed  turkeys  and  little  niggeroons  wid.  Did  you  ebber 
hear  de  likes  ob  dat  in  all  your  bawn  days,  Missus ;  but  den, 
Marm,  de  general  was  a  very  poor  cook  hisself  you  know,  and  it 
stand  to  argument  ob  reason,  where  Massa  or  Missus  don't  know 
nuffin,  de  sarvant  can't  neither.  Dat  is  what  all  de  gentlemen  and 
ladies  says  dat  wisit  here,  Marir: :  '  What  a  lublv  beautiful  woman 
Miss  Lun  i3,'  dey  say,  '  dere  is  so  much  finement  in  her,  and  her 
table  IS  de  best  in  all  Meriky.' 

"  W  <i^  a  fooj  you  is,  Uncle  S  )rrow,'  she  say,  and  den  she  larf 
again  ;  and  when  Missus  lar^den  .  know  she  was  pleased.  'Well,' 
sais  she,  'now  mind  you  keep  til  your  secrets  to  yourself  when 
travelin,  and  keep  your  eyes  open  wide,  and  see  eberyting  and  say 
nuffin.'  ^      D  J 

Missus,'  sais  I,  '  I  will  be  wide  awake ;  you  may  pend  on  me 
-eyes  as  big  as  two  dogwood  blossoms,  and  ears  open  like 
m'lcharel.' 

"  '  What  you  goi  for  dinner  to-day  V  she  say— jist  as  you  say, 
Massa.  Well,  I  tell  her  all  ober,  as  I  tells  you,  numeratin  all  I 
had.  Den  she  picked  out  what  she  wanted,  and  mong  dem  I  reck- 
lect  was  ciams." 

"  Now  tell  us  how  you  cooked  the  clams,"  I  said ;  "  what's  the 
use  of  3f:anding  chatteriug  all  day  there  like  a  monkey  ?" 
i^l^^^'  Massa,  now  is  ji:^t  what  I  is  goin'  to  do  dis  blessid  minit. 
Missus,'  says  I,  '  talkin  of  clams,  minds  me  of  chickens.' 

What  on  airth  do  you  mean,'  says  she,  '  you  blockhead ;  it 
might  as  well  mind  you  of  tunder.' 

Well,  Missus,'  says  I,  '  now  sometimes  one  ting  does  mind  me 
of  anoder  tinor  dat  way ;  I  nebber  sees  you.  Missus,  but  what  you 
ii;ind  me  ob  je  beautiful  white  lily,  and  dat  agin  ob  de  white  rose 
dat  hab  de  lubly  color  on  his  cheek.' 

"  '  Do  go  away,  and  don't  talk  nonsense,'  she  said,  larfing ;  and 
when  she  larfed,  den  I  know  she  was  pleased. 
"  '  So  clams  mind  me  of  chickens.'  • 

"  '  And  whiskey,'  she  said. 

"  '  Well,  it  do  Missus  ;  dat  are  a  fac;'  and  I  helped  myself  aein 
dis  way."  r         j  s 

"Sorrow,"  said  I,  "this  is  too  bad;  go  forward  now  and  cut 
this  foolery  short.  You  will  be  too  drunk  to  cook  the  dinner  if 
you  go  on  that  way." 

"  Massa,"  said  he,  "  dis  child  nebber  was  drunk  in  his  life  ;  but 
he  is  frose  most  to  deaf  wid  de  wretched  fogs  (dat  give  people 
here  '  blue  noses,')  an  de  field  ice,  and  raw  winds  :  I  is  as  cold  as 
if  1  sleot  wid  a  dead  niggar  or  a  Yankee.     Yah,  yah,  yah. 

"'  Well,  Missus,'  sais  I,  'dem  clams  do  mind  me  ob  chickens. 
Now,  Missus,  will  you  skuse  me  if  I  git  you  the  receipt  Miss 
Phil  lis  and  I  ab  cyphered  out,  how  to  preserve  chickens  ^" 


HM  I    IIIB 


294 


A    DISR    OF    OLAMS 


"  *  Yes,'  she  said,  *  I  will.    Let  me  hear  it.     Dat  is  sumthen 
new.' 

"  *  Well,  Missus,  you  know  how  you  and  I  is  robbed  by  our 
niggars  like  so  many  minks.     Now,  Missus,  sposen  you  and  I  pass 
a  law  dat  all  fat  poultry  is  to  be  brought  to  me  to  buy,  and  den 
we  keep  our  fat  poultry  locked  up ;  and  if  dey  steal  de  lean  fowls 
and  we  buy  em,  we  saves  de  fattenen  of  em,  and  gibs  no  more 
arter  all  dan  de  vally  of  food  and  tendin,  which  is  all  dcy  gets  now 
for  dere  fowls  is  always  de  best  fed  in  course  ;  and  when  we  ab 
more  nor  we  wants  for  you  and  me,  den  I  take  em  to  market  and 
sell  em ;  and  if  dey  will  steal  em  arter  dat,  Missus,  we  must  try 
ticklin  ;  dere  is  nuflin  like  it.     It  makes  de  down  fly  like  a  feather 
bed.     It  makes  niggers  wery  sarcy  to  see  white  tief  punished  tree 
times  as  much  as  dey  is  ;  dat  are  a  fac,  Missus.     A  poor  white 
man  can't  work,  and  in  course  he  steal.     Well,  his  time  bein'  no 
airthly  use,  dey  gib  him  six  month  pensiontary  ;  and  a  nigger,  who 
can  airn  a  dollar  or  may  be  100  cents  a  day,  only  one  month.    I 
spise  a  poor  white  man  as  I  do  a  skunk.     Dey  is  a  cuss  to  de 
country  ;    and  its  berry  hard  for  you  and  me  to  pay  rates  to 
support  em  :  our  rates  last  year  was  bominable.     Let  us  pass  dis 
law,  Missus,  and  fowl  stealin'  is  done^ — de  ting  is  dead.' 

" '  Well,  you  may  try  it  for  six  months,'  she  say,  *  only  no 
whippin.     We  must  find  some  oder  punishment,'  she  said. 

*"  1  ab  it,'  sais  I,  '  Missus  !  Oh  Lord  a  massy,  Missus  !  oh  dear, 
Missus !  I  got  an  inwention  as  bright  as  bran  new  pewter  button. 
I'll  shave  de  head  of  a  tief  close  and  smooth.  Dat  will  keep  his 
head  warm  in  de  sun,  and  cool  at  night ;  do  him  good.  He  can't 
go  courtin'  den,  when  he  ab  '  no  w^ool  whar  de  woo',  ought  to  grow,' 
and  spile  his  frolicken,  and  all  de  niggaroons  make  game  ob  him. 
It  do  more  good  praps  to  tickle  fancy  ob  niggers,  dan  to  tickle  dere 
hide.  I  make  him  go  to  church  reglar,  den,  to  show  lilsself  and  his 
bald  pate.     Yah,  yah,  yah  !'  " 

"  Come,  Sorrow,"  I  said,  "  I  am  tired  of  all  this  foolery  ;  either 
tell  me  how  you  propose  to  cook  the  clams,  or  substitute  some- 
thing else  in  their  place." 

"  Well  Massa,"  he  said,  "  I  will ;  but  railly  noWj  when  I  gits 
talkin'  bout  my  dear  ole  Missus,  pears  to  rne  as  if  my  tongue 
would  run  for  ebber.  D's  is  do  last  voyage  I  ebber  make  in  a 
fishin'  craft.  I  is  used  to  de  first  society,  and  always  moved  round 
wid  ladles  and  gentlemen  what  had  finement  in  em.  Well,  Massa, 
now  I  comes  to  de  clams.  First  of  all,  you  must  dig  de  clams. 
Now  dere  is  great  art  in  dlggin'  clams. 

"Where  you  see  little  hole  like  wormhole,  dere  is  de  clam.  He 
breathe  up  tru  dat,  and  suck  in  his  drink  like  sherry-cobbler 
through  a  straw.  Whar  dere  is  no  little  air  holes,  dere  is  no  clam, 
dat  are  a  fac.     Now,  Massa,  can  you  tell  who  is  de  most  knowiii' 


A     DIBIT     OF    OLAMD 


206 


clam-digger  in  de  worl  ?  De  gull  is,  Massa;  and  he  eat  his  clam 
raw,  as  some  folks  who  don't  know  nuffin  bout  cookin',  eat  oysters. 
He  lake  up  do  clam  cbbcr  so  far  in  de  air,  and  let  him  fall  right  on 
de  rock,  which  break  shell  for  him,  and  down  he  goes  and  pounces 
on  him  like  a  duck  on  a  June  bug.  Sometimes  clam  catch  him  by 
de  too  though,  and  hold  on  like  grim  death  to  a  dead  nigger,  and 
asvay  goes  bird  screamin  and  yellin,  and  clam  stickin  to  him  like 
burr  to  a  bosses  tail.  Oh,  geeliillikin,  what  fun  it  is.  And  all  de 
odor  gulls  larf  at  him  like  any  ting;  dat  comes  o'  seezin'  him  by 
de  mout  instead  ob  de  scrurt'ob  de  neck. 

"Well,  when  you  git  clam  nuff,  den  you  must  wash  em,  and  dat 
is  more  trouble  dan  dey  is  worth ;  for  dey  is  worry  gritty 
naturally,  like  buckwheat  dat  is  trashed  in  de  field — takes  two  or 
tree  waters,  and  salt  is  better  dan  fresh,  cause  you  see  fresh  water 
make  him  sick.  Well  now,  Massa,  de  question  is,  what  will  you 
ab ;  clam  soup,  clam  sweetbread,  clam  pie,  clam  fritter,  or  bake 
dam  r 

"  Which  do  you  tink  best.  Sorrow  V  sais  I, 

"  Well,  Massa,  dey  is  all  good  in  dereway;  Missus*  U(  d  to 
fection  baked  clams  mighty  well ;  but  wo  can't  do  dem  so  tip  top 
at  sea ',  clam  sweetbread,  she  said,  was  bettor  den  what  is  made  ob 
oysters,  and  as  to  clam  soup,  dat  pends  on  de  cook.  Now,  Massa, 
when  Missus  and  me  went  to  wisit  do  president's  plantation,  I  see 
his  cook,  Mr.  Sallust,  didn't  know  nuffin  bout  'parin  de  soup. 
What  you  link  he  did,  Massa  ?  stead  ob  poundin  de  clams  in  a 
mortar  fust,  he  jist  cut  em  in  quarters  and  puts  era  in  dat  way.  I 
nebber  see  such  ignorance  since  I  was  raised.  He  made  de  soup 
ob  water,  and  actilly  put  some  salt  in  it;  when  it  was  sarved  up — 
it  was  redicuious  disgraceful — he  left  dem  pieces  in  de  tureen,  and 
dey  was  like  leather.     Missus  said  to  me, 

" '  Sorrow,'  sais  she,  '  1  shall  starve  here ;  dem  military  men 
know  nuffin,  but  bout  horses,  dogs,  and  wine;  but  dey  ain't 
delicate  no  way  in  dere  tastes,  and  yet  to  hear  em  talk,  you'd  be 
most  afeer^d  to  offer  em  any  ting,  you'd  tink  dey  was  de  debbel 
and  all.'" 

"  Did  she  use  those  words.  Sorrow  ?" 

"  Well,  nut  zactly,"  he  said,  scratching  his  head,  "  dey  wa3 
dicksionary  words  and  worry  fine,  for  she  had  great  finement  bout 
her ;  but  dat  was  de  meanin  ob  em. 

" '  Now,  Sorrow,'  she  said,  '  tell  me  de  trut,  wasn't  dat  soup 
now  made  ob  water  V 

" '  Yes,  Missus,  it  was,'  said  I,  "I  seed  it  wid  my  o'^n  eyes.' 

"  '  I  taut  so,'  she  said,  '  why  dat  cook  aint  fit  to  tend  a  bear  trap, 
and  bait  it  wid  sheep's  innerds.' 

"  Did  she  use  those  words  1" 

"Why  laws  a  massy,  Massa!     I  can't  swear  to  de  identioal 


290 


L    DISH     OF    CLAMS. 


words ;  how  can  I?  but  as  I  was  a  sayin,  dere  was  fincnent  in  em 
werry  long,  werry  crooked,  and  werry  pretty,  but  dat  was  all  de 
sense  ob  em." 

"  '  Now,  Sorrow,'  said  she,  '  he  ought  to  ub  used  milk ;  all  fish 
soups  ought  to  be  made  o'  milk,  and  den  tickened  wid  flour.' 

'"Why  in  course,  Mi.isus,'  sais  I,  'dat  is  de  way  you  and  me 
always  like  it.' 

*' '  Jt  has  made  me  quite  ill,'  said  r,he.  ^ 

" '  So  it  ab  nearly  killed  me.  Missus,'  sals  I,  puttin  my  hand  on 
my  stomach,  '  I  ab  such  a  pain  down  here,  I  tink  sometimes  I  shall 
die. 

"  *  Well,  you  look  ill.  Uncle  Sorrow,'  she  said,  and  she  went  to 
her  dressin'-case,  and  took  a  little  small  bottle  (covered  ober  wid 
printed  words),  '  take  some  o'  dis,'  said  ;.he,  and  she  noured  me  out 
boutdis  much  (filling  his  glass  again), 'take  dat,  it  will  do  you 

'"  Is  it  berry  bad  to  swaller,'  sais  I,  'Missus,  I  is  most  afeard  i*-, 
will  spile  the  fincment  of  my  taste.' 

"  '  Try  it,'  says  she,  and  1  shut  to  my  eyes,  and  made  awful  long 
lace,  and  swallowed  it  jist  dis  way. 

'^ '  %  jolly,'  says  I,  '  Missus,  but  dat  is  grand.     What  is  dat  ?' 
Clone  vatei*,'  said  she. 

"  Oh,  Missus,'  says  I,  '  dat  is  plaguy  trong  water,  dat  are  a  fac 
and  bery  nice  flavored.  I  wish  in  my  heart  we  had  a  nice  sprint 
Ob  It  to  home.  Wouldn't  it  be  grand,  for  dis  is  a  bery  thirsty 
nigga,  dat  are  a  fac.  Clam  pie,  Mas&a,  is  first  chop,  my  Missus 
ambitioned  it  some  punkins.' 

"  Well,  how  do  you  Liake  it?" 

"Dere  is  seberal  ways,  Massa,     Sometime  we  used  oneway 
and  sometime  anoder.     I  do  believe  Missus  could  do  it  fifty  ways  "' 

T   u  1,  y  ^■'^^'",  '*'^  ^'  ""^^'  Sorrow,  howcun  you  lie  that  way. 
1  shall  begm  to  think  at  last,  you  never  had  a  )n!Stress  at  all  " 

a  <fty  ways !  Well,  Massa,  goodness  gracious  me  !  You  isn't 
gom  to  tie  me  down  to  swear  to  figures  now,  any  more  nor  identi- 
cal  words,  IS  you  ?  I  ab  no  manner  o'  doubt  she  could  fifty  ways, 
buf,  she  only  used  eight  or  ten  ways  which  sho  said  was  de  best. 
±irst  dere  is  de  clam  bake." 

"  Well,  I  know  that,"  sais  I,  "  go  on  to  the  clam  pie." 

What  13  it  r  said  ihe  Doctor,  »  for  I  should  like  to  know  how 
tney  are  prepared. 

•  1^^'^'",.^^'^^  ^'  "  ^^  *^®  "^°^^  approved  mode.  A  cavity  is  dug 
in  the  earth,  about  eighteen  inches  deep,  which  is  lined  with  round 
stones.  On  this  a  fire  is  made  ;  and  when  the  stones  are  sufficiently 
heated,  a  bushel  or  more  of  clams  (jiccording  to  the  number  of  per- 
sons  who  are  to  partake  of  the  feast)  is  thrown  upon  them.  On 
this  is  put  a  layer  of  rock-w.ed,  gathered  from  the  beach,  and  over 


A    DTSR    OP    0LAH8. 


k: 


thid  a  second  layer  of  sea-M'eed  This  prevents  the  escape  of  the 
steam,  and  pi  eservea  the  sweetness  of  the  fish.  Clams  baked  in 
this  manner,  are  prefefed  to  those  cookea  in  the  usual  way  in  the 
kitchen.  On  one  occasion,  that  of  a  grand  political  mass-mceting 
in  favor  of  General  Harrison,  on  the  4th  of  July,  1840,  nearly 
10,000  prrsons  assembled  in  Rhodo  island,  .'or  whom  a  clam-bake 
and  chowder  vas  prepared.  Thia  was  probably  the  greatest  feast 
ot  the  kind  that  ever  took  place  in  New  England." 
"  Zaccly,"  said  Sorrow,  *'  den  dere  is  anoder  way." 
"  I^  won't  hear  it,"  sp,id  I,  "  stiver  now,  make  the  pie  any  way  you 

"  Massa,"  said  he,  "  eber  since  poor  Missus  died  from,  eaten  hogs 
wid  dere  heads  on,  I  feel  kinder  faint,  when  I  sees  clams;  I  hnb 
neber  swallowed  one  since,  and  nel.-  will.  De  parfume  gits  inro 
my  stomach,  as  it  did  when  de  Gent  ral's  nook  used  water  instead 
of  milk  in  his  soup.  I  don't  spose  you  ab  any  cbne-water,  but  if 
you  will  let  me  take  jist  a  tumblerfuil  ob  dis,  I  tink  it  would  make 
me  survive  a  little,"  and  without  liting  for  leave,  he  helped  him- 
self  to  a  bumper.  "  Now,  Massa,'  he  said,  "  I  show  you  what 
ccokin  is,  1  know,"  and  making  a  scrape  of  his  leg,  ho  left  the 
cabin. 

"  Doctor,"  said  I,  "  I  am  glad  you  have  seen  this  specimen  of  a 
southern  negro.  Ho  is  a  fair  sample  of  a  servant  m  the  houses  of 
our  great  planters.  Cheerful,  grateful,  and  contented,  they  are  bet- 
ter off  and  happier  than  any  portion  of  the  same  race  I  have  met 
with  in  iiny  part  of  the  world.  They  have  a  quick  perception  of 
humor,  a  3ort  of  instinctive  knowledge  of  character,  and  great  cun- 
ning,  but  their  reasoning  powers  are  very  limited.  Their  appetites 
are  gross,  and  their  constitutional  indolence  such,  that  they  prefer 
enduring  any  suffering  ?.nd  privation  to  regular  habits  of  industry. 

"  Slavery  in  the  abstract  is  a  thing  that  nobody  approves  of,  or 
attempts  to  justify.  We  all  consider  it  an  evil— but  unhappil'y  it 
was  entailed  upon  us  by  our  forefathers,  and  has  now  grown  to  be 
one  of  such  magnitude  thr.t  it  is  difficult  to  know  how  to  deal  with 
it— and  this  difficulty  is  ranch  increased  by  the  iviitation  which  has 
grown  out  of  the  unskilful  and  vniustifiable  conduct  of  abolitionists. 
The  grossest  exaggerations  have  been  circulated,  a»  to  the  conduct 
and  treatment  of  our  slaves,  by  persons  who  either  did  not  knoY 
what  they  were  talking  about,  or  who  have  wilfully  perverted  faces. 
The  devil  we  have  painted  black,  and  the  negro  received  the  same 
color  from  the  hand  of  his  Maker.  It  only  remained  t  >  represent 
the  pL"  iter  as  of  a  deeper  dye  than  either.  Thia  picture,  however, 
wanted  etiect,  and  latterly  lights  and  shades  have  been  judiciously 
introduced,  by  mingling  with  these  groups,  eastern  abolitionists, 
white  overseers,  and  English  noblemen,  and  ladies  of  rank.  It  made 
a  clever  caricature — had  a{ijreat  run — ha*-  beeu  suiperseded  by  othe^* 
13* 


■it    !■ 


M 


298 


THE    devil's 


hole; 


follies  and  extravagancies,  and  is  now  nearly  forgotten.  The  social 
evil  still  remains  and  ever  will,  while  ignorant  zeal,  blind  bigotry 
hypocrisy  and  politics,  demand  to  have  the  exclusive  treatment  of 
it.  The  planter  has  rights,  as  well  as  the  slave,  and  the  claims  of 
both  must  be  well  weighed  and  considered,  before  any  dispassion- 
ate  judgment  can  be  foi-mcd, 

"  In  the  meantime  invective  and  misrepresentation,  by  irritating 
the  public,  disqualify  it  for  the  deliberate  exercise  of  its  functions 
If  the  slaves  have  to  mourn  over  the  want  of  freedom,  the  planters 
may  lament  the  want  of  truth  in  their  opponents ;  and  it  must  be 
admitted,  that  they  have  submitted  to  the  atrocious  calutimies  that 
have  been  so  liberally  heaped  upon  them  of  late  years,  with  a  cou- 
tempt  that  is  the  best  refutation  of  filsehood,  or  a  meekness  and 
forbearance  that  contrast  very  favorably  with  the  violence  and  furv 
of  their  adversaries."  '' 

^  My  object,  however,  Squire,  is,  not  to  write  a  lecture  on  eman. 
cipation,  but  to  give  you  a  receipt  for  cooking  "a  dish  of  clams." 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 
THE    DEVIL'S    HOLE;    OR,    FISH    AND    FLESH. 

"  Sorrow,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  seems  to  me  to  consider  women 
from  the  way  he  flatters  his  mistress,  as  if  she  was  not  unlike  the 
grupers  at  Bermuda,  There  is  a  natural  fishpond  there  near  Fiats 
Village,  in  which  there  is  a  great  lot  of  these  critters,  which  are 
about  the  size  of  the  cod.  They  will  rise  to  the  surface,  and 
approach  the  bank  for  you  to  tickle  their  sides,  which  oeem  to 
afford  them  particular  delight." 

"It  is  what  you  would  cell,  I  suppose,  practical  soft  sawdering." 

"But  It  IS  an  operation  of  which  the  rest  are  exceedingly  jealous, 
and  while  you  are  thus  amusing  one  of  them,  you  must 'take  care 
others  do  not  feel  otfended,  and  make  a  dash  at  your  fmgcrs.  With 
true  feminine  jealousy,  ioo,  they  cliange  color  when  excited,  for 
envy  seems  to  pervade  all  animate  nature." 

II  It's  called  the  Devil's  Hole  where  they  are,  aint  it?  "  sais  I. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  it  is,  and  it  is  situated  not  far  from  Moore's 
favorite  tree,  under  whose  shade  he  used  to  recline  while  writing 
hh  poetry,  at  a  time  when  his  deputy  was  equally  idle,  and  instead 
of  Keeping  his  accounts,  kept  his  moi-ey.  Bermuda  is  a  fiital  plac& 
to  poets.  Moore  lost  his  purse  there,  and  V/aller  his  favorite  ring , 
the  latter  has  been  recently  found,  the  former  was  never  recovered 


0»,     FISH     AND     FLESH 


299 


e  on  eman- 


1  osem  to 


In  one  Ihing  these  two  celebrated  authors  greatly  resembled  each 
other,  they  both  fawned  and  flattered  on  the  great." 

"  Yes,"  said  Cutler,  "  and  both  have  met  their  reward.     Every- 
body  .^grets  that  anything  was  known  of  either,  but  his  poetry  1-" 

Well,-   sais  I,  'l  am  glad  I  am  not  an  Englishman,  or  as  true 
as  the  world,  a  chap  like  Lord  John  Russell  would  ruin  me  for 
ever.     I  am  not  a  poet,  and  can't  write  poetry,  but  I  am  a  Clock- 
maker    and  write  common  sense.     Now,  a  biographer  like  that 
JTian  that  knows  as  little  of  one  as  he  does  of  the  other,  would  ruin 
me  for  everlastingly.     ..  aint  pleasant  to  have  such  a  burr  as  that 
stick  on  to  your  tail,  especially  if  you  have  no  comb  to  get  it  off, 
IS  It  I     A  politician  is  like  a  bee ;  he  travels  a  zig  zag  course  every 
which  way  turnin  first  to  the  right  and  then  to  the  left,  now  makin 
a  dive  at  the  wild  honeysuckle,  and  then  at  the  sweet  br'ar;  now 
at  the  buckwheat  blossom,  and  then  at  the  rose ;  he  is  here,  and 
there,  and  everywhere ;  you  don't  know  where  the  plague  to  find 
him ;  he  courts  all  and  is  constant  to  none.     But  when  his  point  is 
gamed  and  he  has  wooed  and  deceived  all,  attained  his  object,  and 
his  bag  IS  filled,  he  then  shuws  plain  enough,  what  he  was  after  all 
the  time.     He  returns  as  straight  as  a  chalk  line,  or  as  we  say  as 
the  crow  flies  to  his  home,  and  neither  looks  to  the  right  or  to  the 
leit,  or  knows  or  cares  for  any  of  them,  who  contributed  to  his  sue- 
cess.     Ills  object  is  to  enrich  himself  and  make  a  family  name.     A 
politician  therefore  is  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  write  a  biogra- 
phy.    Having  a  kind  of  sneakin  regard  for  a  winding  wavy  way 
himself,  he  sees  more  beauty  in  the  in  and  out  line  of  a  Varcrinny 
lonce,  than  the  stiff  straight  formal  post  and  rail  one  of  New'Entr. 
land.     As  long  as  a  partizan  crittur  is  a  thorn  in  the  flesh  of  the 
adverse  party,  he  don't  care  whether  he  is  Jew  or  Gentile.     He 
overlooks  little  pecadilloes,  as  he  calls  the  worst  stories,  and  thinks 
everybody  else  will  be  just  as  indulgent  as  himself.     He  uses 
romanists,  dissenters,  republicans,  and   evangelicals   at   his   own 
great  log-rolling*  froliicks,  and  rolls  for  them  in  return. 

*  LoQ-ROLLmr;.— In  the  lur.bftr  regions  of  Maine,  It  is  customary  for  men 
ot  diilerent  logging  camps  to  appoint  days  for  helping  each  other  in  rolling 
the  logs  to  the  river  after  they  ar.^  fellc  :  and  trimmed,  this  rolling  beini 
about  tlie  hardest  work  incident  to  the  business.  Thus  the  men  of  three  or 
four  dilfercnt  camps  will  unite,  say  on  Monday,  to  roll  for  camp  No  1  on 
luesday  for  camp  No.  2,  on  Wednesday,  for  camp  No.  3,  and  so  on  through 
the  whole  number  of  camps  within  convenient  distance  of  each  other  The 
term  has  been  adopted  in  legislation  to  signify  a  little  system  of  mutual  co- 
operation For  instance,  a  member  from  St.  Liwrence  has  a  pet  bill  for  a 
plimk-road  which  he  wants  pushed  through.  He  accordingly  makes  a  bargain 
with  a  member  Irom  Onondaga,  who  is  coaxing  along  a  charter  for  a  bank,  h-r 
which  St.  Lawrence  agrees  to  vote  for  Onondaaa's  linnW  if  Onnn.ia,.  .  v-:"  '">»- 
Ot.  Lawrence's  plank-road.  This  is  legislativelog-rolling,  and  there  is  abun- 
dance  of  it  carried  on  at  Albany  every  winter.  Generally  speakina,  the  subject 
of  t..e  log-rolling  is  some  merely  local  project,  interesting  only  to  the  people  of 


800 


THE     devil's     hole 


Who  the  plague  haint  done  something,  said  somethinff,  or 
thought  something  he  is  sorry  for,  and  prays  may  be  forgot  and 
.orgiven;  big  brag  as  I  am,  I  know  J  can't  say  I  haven't  over  and 
over  agam  offended.  Weil,  if  it's  the  part  of  a  friend  to  -o  and 
rake  all  these  thuigs  up,  and  expose  em  to  the  public,  and'if  it's 
agreeable  to  my  wife,  sposen  I  had  one,  to  have  em  published 
because  the  st^nied  paper  will  sell,  all  I  can  sais  is,  I  wish  he  had 
shown  his  regard  f.r  me,  by  running  away  with  my  wife  and 
letting  me  alone.  It's  astonishing  how  many  friends  Moore's  dis- 
loyalty made  him.  A  seditious  song  or  a  treasonable  speech  finds 
more  favor  with  some  people  in  the  old  country  than  building  a 
church,  that  s  a  fact.  Howsomever,  I  think  I  am  safe  from  Km 
tor  hrst  1  am  a  Yankee,  secondly  I  aint  married,  thirdly  I  am  a 
Clockmaker  and  fourthly  my  biography  is  written  by  myself  in 
my  book,  fifth  y  I  write  no  letters  I  can  help,  and  never  answer 
one  except  on  business. 

"This  is  a  hint  father  gave  me:  'Sam,'  said  he,  'never  talk  to  a 
woman,  fur  others  may  hear  you ;  only  whisper  to  her,  and  never 
write  to  her,  or  your  own  letters  may  rise  up  in  judgment  against 
you,  some  day  or  another.  Many  a  m^n,  afore  now,  has  had  reason 
to  wish  he  had  never  seen  a  pen  in  his  life ;'  so  I  aint  afeard,  there- 
lore,  that  he  can  write  himself  up  or  me  down,  and  make  me  look 
fekuy  woniky,  no  how  he  can  fix  it.  If  he  does,  we  will  declare  war 
again  England,  and  blow  the  little  darned  thing  out  of  the  map  of 
±.urope,  for  it  aint  much  bigger  than  the  little  island  Cron«tadt  is 
built  on,  after  all,  is  it  ?  It's  just  a  little  dot,  and  nothin  more,  dad 
fetch  my  buttons  if  it  is.  ' 

"  But  to  go  back  to  the  grupers  and  the  devil's  hole ;  I  have  been 
there  myself  and  seen  it.  Doctor,"  sais  I,  "  but  there  is  other  fish 
besides  these  in  it;  there  is  the  parrot-fish,  and  they  are  like  the 
fe-nimne  gender,  too ;  if  the  grupers  are  fond  of  being  tickled,  par- 
rot.  are  fond  of  hearing  their  own  voices.  Then,  there  is  the 
angel-fish  they  have  fins  like  wings,  of  a  pale  blue  color  ;  but  they 
must  be  fallen  angels  to  be  m  such  a  place  as  that  hole,  too,  musn't 
!r.7.\>f  J'*^  l^'^  are  handsome  even  now.  Gracious!  what 
must  they  have  been  before  the  fall  1  and  how  many  humans  has 
beauty  caused  to  fall,  Doctor,  hasn't  it?  and  how  many  ther  a 
hat  th.  sound  of  that  old  song,  'My  face  is  my  fortune,  sir,  she 
'^f  W  1,  1""^''?  ^^''''  ^'^'''  '^'^^  ^^^  ^^^y  ^^'ould  almost  bu;st. 

tainlv  nt%  t'"        ''  '",  T^^^^L^'^  ^^^'"'  ^"^  ^hose  Mudians  sar- 
tamly  must  have  a  good  deal  of  fun  in  them,  to  make  such  u  capital 

L'T!stnci' wm'col  r™''™'/  '\"V'  ^'-^'^y  log-rolling,  where  the  Whigs, 
ih'J.  „t"*!f:.'^'"  ITl^"^  ^"  understanding  with  the  De.-nocrats  that  the  forme; 


OR,     PISH     AND     FLESH. 


801 


3r  answer 


and  comical  assortment  of  queer  ones  for  that  pond.  There  is  th« 
Jawyer-fish-can  anything  under  the  sun  be  more  approoriate  than 
the  devil^  hole  for  a  lawyer.  What  a  nice  place  for  him  to  hanS 
out  h.s  shmgle  m,  auit  it?  it's  no  wonder  his  old  friend,  the  land" 

r,i  i?  aZ  "'^  f  •'  '.^  '^  ''"'  ^'•"^'  '^  '' '•  What  mischief  he 
must  brood  there ;  brmgmg  actions  of  slander  against  the  foolish 
parrot-fish  that  wi  1  et  their  tongue,  run,  tioklin  the  grupers,  and 
while  they  are  smirking  and  smiling,  devour  their  food,  and  pros.. 
peL  T  ri'"f  \'T  violating  the  Maine  law  and  di'sturtii^glie 
dace  for?"  if  r  ^tv  ^'^'^  Westminster  Hall,  is  a  dangerous 
tZtll  W  ""^  '"^'^'"''  ^.^  set  into,  I  can  tell  you ;  the  way 
they  tleece  him  is  a  caution  to  sinners.  ^ 

'']My  dog  fell  into  that  fish-pond,  and  they  nearly  fixed  his  flint 
^l  refclJ'h^"^'  '  '-''  ^^"^  ""'  -''  --  ^'--  -ipped  ^^ 

yo:  Jlt'rl^dar''"  "^'  ^'^  ^°^^°^'  "^^'^^^  ^"  ^^^  -^^^  *-^ 

Jl  ^?i^'"  'f ''  ^^  "  ^  ^?^  ^"^•'^  ^^  g^^^*  ^^'-^1  a^out  it.  It  is  a 
beautiful  spot,  and  very  healthy.     It  is  all  that  has  ever  been    aid 

cl}lhr?tf^  I  T"^  *'^°'  '"^  '^^'''  '^y^^  ^  g^^^t  deal,  for  most 
ee  ebrated  places  disappoint  you ;  you  expect  too  much  and  few 
crack  parts  of  the  world  come  up  to  the  idea  you  form  of  them 
beforehand.     Well,  I  went  down  tWe  to  see  if  tire  was  any thin^ 

me,  although  I  made  a  spec  that  paid  me  very  well,  too  There  ia 
a  passage  through  the  reefs  there,  and  it's  not  every  pilot  knows  it 
but  there  was  a  manuscript  chart  of  it  made  by  a^apta^  of  a 
tradm  vessel.  When  he  died  his  widow  offered  it  to  the  govern 
ment,  but  they  hummed  and  hawed  about  the  price  and  was  for 
g.tting  It  for  half  nothing,  .s  they  always  do.  I  what  dolsl  do 
but  just  steps  in  and  buys  it;  for  in  war  time  it  is  of  the  greatest 

ndTth-nk  r  ^"'^  ''"  P''^"fS^ '  f  ^  ^  ^^'^  ''  '^  "-•  "avf  board 
Trnn-  wu       T'  ^^  ""'^  ^^  loggerheads  with  the  British,  We  shal 

fine  day.  "''^'''  °^  '^'  ^"^^'  ^*  '^^  ^"^"^^»-  ^'^^^^'^  '^^^ 

"1  had  a  charming  visit.     There  are  some  magnificent  caves 
there,  and  in  that  climate  they  are  grand  places,  I  do  assure  you 
i  nev'er  saw  anything  so  beautiful.     The  ceiling  is  covered  S 

^t^'Z^S^^r^''^  ^'  ^^-^^^-  ^-P-     What  do  you 

"Stalactites," 

'' Exactly,  that's  it,  glorious  stilactites  reaching  to  the  bottom 
and  formmg  fluted  pillars.     In  on.  of  those  caves  %hV.L.lT. 
runs,  the  Admiral  floored  over  the  bottom,  and  gave  a"  ball  in'it 
and  jt  was  the  most  Arabian  Night's  entertainment  kind  of  thing 
that  I  ever  saw.     It  looked  like  a  diamond  hall,  and  didn't  it  shol 


,:l|||fpttfcv1 


803 


THE   devil's   hole; 


off  the  Mudian  galls  to  advantage,  lick .'  J  guess  it  did,  for  ther 
are  the  handsomest  Creoles  in  all  creation.  There  is  morf»  sub- 
stance in  'em  than  in  the  tropical  ladies.  I  don't  mean  worldly 
(though  that  am't  to  bj  sneezed  at,  neither,  bv  them  that  ain't  got 
none  themselves.)  When  the  people  used  to  build  small  clippers 
there  for  the  West  India  trade,  cedar  was  very  valuable,  and  a 
gall  s  fortune  was  reckoned,  not  by  pounds,  but  by  so  many  cedars 
^ow  It  is  banana  trees.  But,  dear  me,  somehow  or  another  we 
have  drifted  away  down  to  Bermuda,  we  must  stretch  back  aaaln 
to  the  Nova  Scotian  coast  east  of  Chesencock,  or,  like  jJrrv 
iioudrot,  we  shall  be  out  of  sight  of  land,  and  lost  at  sea." 

On  going  up  on  the  deck,  my  attention  was  naturally  attracted 
to  my  new  purchase,  the  Canadian  horse. 

'•To  my  mind,"  said  the  Doctor,  "Jerry's  knee  action  does  not 
merit  the  extravagant  praise  you  bestowed  upon  it.  It  is  not  hish 
enough  to  please  me."  ^ 

"  There  you  are  wrong,"  sais  I ;  « that's  the  mistake  most  people 
make.     It  is  not  the  height  of  the  action,  but  the  nature  of  it  that 
is  to  be  regarded.     A  high  stepping  horse  pleases  the  eye  more 
than  the  judgment.     He  seems  to  go  faster  than  he  does.     There 
is  not  only  power  wasted  in  it,  but  it  injures  the  foot.     My  idea  is 
this  :  you  may  compare  a  man  to  a  man,  and  a  woman  to  a  woman 
for  the  two,  including  young  and  old,  make  the  world.     You  see 
more  of  them,  and  know  more  about  'em,  than  horses,  for  you  have 
your  own  structure  to  examine  and  compare  them  by,  and  can  talk 
to  them,  and  if  they  are  of  the  feminine  gender,  hear  their  own 
account  of  themselves.     They  can  speak,  for  they  were  not  behind 
the  door  when  tongues  were  given  out,  I  can  tell  yo;:.     The  range 
of  your  experience  is  larger,  for  you  are  always  with  them,  but 
how  few  bosses  does  a  man  own  in  his  life.     How  few  he  examines, 
and  how  little  he  knows  about  other  folks  beasts.     They  don't  live 
with  you,  you  only  see  them  when  you  mount,  drive,  or  visit  the 
stable.     Ihey  have  separate  houses  of  their  own,  and  pretty  build- 
ings they  are,  too,  in  general,  containin  about  as  much  space  for 
sleepin  as  a  berth  on  board  a  ship,  and  about  as  much  ventilation, 
too,  and  the  poor  critters  get  about  as  little  exercise  as  passengers, 
and  are  just  about  worth  as  much  as  they  are  when  they  land,  for 
a  day's  hard  tramp.     Poor  critters,  they  have  to  be  on  their  taps 
most  all  the  time.*     The  Arab  and  the  Canadian  have  the  best 
horses,  not  only  because  they  have  the  best  breed,  but  because  one 
has  no  stalls,  and  t'other  has  no  stable  treatment. 

"  Now  in  judging  of  a  horse's  action,  I  compare  him  not  with 
other  horses,  but  with  animals  of  a  different  species.     Did  you 

ever  know  a  f'nv   stnrnVilo    /-i-n  o    rtof  Tv.nU»   «  f.^\ 4. 1        T 1-  . 

.. . ; — j^.j  ,j.i  „  ^.„^  iiian-c  a  loiioc  seep  s      i  gucas  iiUL  ; 


*  On  their  feet. 


OB,     PISn    AND    FLESH. 


1;! 


aoa 


IV^3  UUl 


but  haven't  you  seen  a  bear,  when  chased  and  tired,  go  head-over- 
heels.  A  dog,  in  a  general  way,  is  a  sure-footed  critter ;  but  he 
trips  now  and  then,  and  if  he  was  as  big  as  a  horse,  would  throw 
his  rider  sometimes.  Now  then  I  took  to  these  animals,  and  I  fincj 
there  are  two  actions  to  be  combined,  the  knee  and  the  foot  action. 
The  fox  and  the  cut  bend  the  knee  easy  and  suply,  but  don't  arch 
'em  :  and  though  they  go  near  the  ground,  they  don't  trip.  I  take 
that  then  as  a  sort  of  standard.  I  like  iXiy  beast,  especially  if  he  is 
for  the  saddle,  to  be  said  to  trot  like  a  fox.  Now,  if  he  lifts  too 
high,  you  see,  he  describes  half  a  circle,  and  don't  go  ahead  as  he' 
ought,  and  then  he  pounds  his  frog  into  a  sort  of  mortar  at  every 
step,  for  the  horny  shell  of  a  foot  is  just  like  one.  Weil  then,  if 
he  sends  his  fore  leg  away  out  in  front,  and  his  hind  leg  away  out 
behind  like  a  hen  scratchin'  graVel,  he  moves  more  like  an  ox  than 
anything  else,  and  hainte  sufficient  power  to  fetch  them  home  quick 
enough  for  fast  movement.  Then  the  foot  action  is  a  great  point : 
I  looked  at  this  critter's  tracks  on  the  pasture  and  asked  myself, 
does  he  cut  turf,  or  squash  it  flat  1  K  he  cuts  it  as  a  gardener  does 
weeds  with  his  spade,  then  good  bye,  Mr.  Jerry  ;  you  won't  suit 
me ;  it's  very  well  to  dance  on  your  toes,  but  it  don't  convene  to 
travel  on  'em,  or  you're  apt  to  make  somersets. 

"  Now,  a  neck  is  a  valuable  thing.  We  have  two  legs,  two 
eyes,  two  hands,  two  ears,  two  nostrils,  and  so  on ;  but  we  have 
only  one  neck,  which  makes  it  so  easy  to  hang  a  fellow,  or  to  break 
it  by  a  chuck  from  your  saddle ;  and  besides,  we  can'c  mend  it,  as 
we  do  a  leg  or  an  arm.  When  it's  broken,  it's  done  for ;  and  what 
use  is  it  if  it's  insured  1  The  money  don't  go  to  you,  but  to  your 
hpJrs,  and  half  the  time  they  wouldn't  cry,  except  for  decency'  sake, 
if  you  did  break  it.  Indeed,  I  knew  a  great  man  once,  who  got  his 
neck  broke,  and  all  his  friends  said,  for  his  own  reputation  k  was  a 
pity  he  hadn't  broke  it  ten  years  sooner.  The  Lord  save  me  from 
such  friends,  I  say.  Fact  is,  a  broken  neck  is  only  a  nine  days' 
wonder,  after  all,  and  is  soon  forgotten. 

"  Now,  the  fox  has  the  right  knee  action,  and  the  leg  is  '  thar.'  In 
the  real  knee  movement  there  is  a  peculiar  spring  that  must  be  seen 
to  be  known  and  valued,  words  don't  give  you  the  idea  of  it.  It's 
like  the  wire  end  of  a  pair  of  gallusses — oh,  it's  charming.  It's 
down  and  ofl"  in  a  jiffy,  like  a  gall's  finger  on  a  piano,  when  she  is 
doin  chromatic  runs.  Fact  is,  if  I  am  walkin  out  and  see  a  critter 
with  it,  1  have  to  stop  and  stare ;  and  Doctor,  I  will  tell  you  a 
queer  thing.  Halt  and  look  at  a  splendid  movin  hoss,  and  the  rider 
is  pleased ;  he  thinks  half'  the  admiration  is  for  him  as  rider  and 
owner,  and  tother  half  for  his  trotter.  The  eon/s  delishtad,  chi- 
rups  his  beast,  gives  him  a  sly  touch  up  with  the  off  heel,  and  shews 
him  off  to  advantage.  But  stop  and  look  at  a  woman,  and  she  is 
as  mad  as  a  hatter.    She  don't  care  how  much  you  look  at  her  as 


B04, 


THE  devil's  hole; 


She 


long  as  you   don't  stand  still   or  turn  your  head   round 
wouldii  t  nimd  slackin  her  pace  if  you  only  attended  to  that. ' 

I^ow  the  fox  has  that  special  springy  movement  I  speak  of 
and  he  put.  his  foot  down  flat ;  he  bends  the  grass  ratheTtohhn 
than  from  h.m  if  anything,  but  most  commonly  crumples  it  fla 
but  you  never  see  it  inclinin  in  the  lino  of  the  course  he  iVrunn  a 
-never  Fact  is,  they  never  get  a  hoist,  and  that  is  a  very  cur" 
ous  word,  It  has  a  very  different  meanin  at  sea  from  what  ft  has  on 

Th   \        T  r'  '^  .^^'^"^  '«  ^^"^  "P'  "1  the  other  to  fall  down 
The  term  '  look  out,'  is  just  the  same. 

"A  canal  boat  was  once  passing  through  a  narrow  lock  on  the 
Er.e  ]nie,and  the  captain  hailed  the  passengers  and  said  'Look 
out.'  Well  a  Frenchman  thinking  something  strange  was  to  be 
seen,  popt  h,s  head  out  and  it  wast^ut  off  in  a'-minute^  ^Oh,  mon 
dieu  !  said  his  comrade,  'dat  is  a  very  striking  lesson  in  EnS 
see  rir^^"'  "?r^«P«n  de  window  and%ee  what  you">^  i 
looic  at  nothTn'?  """"'  "'"  ''  "^''"'  ^'"^  ^"'^^  ^''^  ^"'  ^"^  don't 
"  Well,  the  worst  hoist  that  I  ever  had  was  from  a  verv  hi^h 
actioned  mare;  the- wn  foot  slipped,  and  tother  was  too  high  to  g 

in  h.  ?  IT'  T°'  ^''  ,'^  ''T'''^  ^"d  ^^^-^  b«th  of  us  went\e»lash 
m  the  mud  I  was  skeered  more  about  her  than  myself  lest  she 
should  g.t  the  skin  of  her  knee  cut,  for  to  aknowing  oL's  eye  h^^^^^ 
an  awful  blemish.  It's  a  long  story  to  tell  how  such  a^blemish 
wam't  the  boss's  fault,  for  I'd  rather  praise  than  apologize  fo   a 

jfZ  '"^  'T-j    '^"^.  '^'''  ''  °"^  ^h'"g  ^^^  People  knows :  L' 
the   ut  come  which  way  ^t  will  the  animal  is  never  so  safe  afterwards 
Nature^  bandage,  the  skin,  is  severed,  and  thai  le,  is  the  weaheZ 
fV,.  r  f     ""l     "^^"Z  f  ^"';  ^°^'°''  th^^«  '«  the  knee  action  and 
tst  ZV''      "'  ""^  '^'''  ''  '  '^''^  '^^""S-     The  leg  must  be 

"  Where  ?"  said  the  Doctor. 

th^^'^'Zui^  ^'  ^Tll  ^\«"^3^°»e  P^accfbr  that,  and  that  is 
commonW  I  r"^""'^  I'  ^^'  '^T'1''  P^'"^'  ^"^  "^^  where  it  most 
ItZuol^nr^fV^'^'^ru^^'  '^^  body-for  if  it's  too  far  back  he 
stumbles,  or  too  forward  he  can't  pick  chips  quic'     uck  '     Doctor 

am  a  borin  of  you,  but  the  fact  is,  when  1  git  a^oin  '  talkin  boss ' 

hTnTalf  T  ""^"^  ''  ''"uP-  ""^^  "^"^^  ^^«-  tempered  they  are 
undP.viflvVT'''  '"•*^'  ^^'^^'  ^'"'*  ^hey  ?  and  I  don't  mean  to 
hovt^ni^n!  ^^'  ^^f^^l "either  by  no  manner  of  means,  and 
how  much  more  sense  they  have  than  half  the  men  either,  after  all 

how  XhTr^  ^''¥^"^-  ^"^  S'^''^^^  they  are  for  kindness, 
S^r.t^'f^^'^'.^  y?""  they,g«S  Howwillin  they  are  to  race  like 
fi;«fTV"/f"''^^'u*^"^i'''  '''^  ^hey  die  for  you.'  1  do  love  them, 
that  18  a  fac  ,  and  when  I  see  a  feller  a  ill-usin  of  one  of  'em,  it 
makes  me  feel  aa  cross  as  two  crooked  gate-posts  I  tell  you 


OR,     FISH     AND     FLESH. 


805 


Indeed,  a  man  that  don't  love  a  boss  is  no  mun  at  all.    I  don't 
tnink  he  can  be  religious.     A  boss  makes  a  man  humane  and  ten 
der  hearted,  teaches  him  to  feel  for  others,  to  share  his  food  and 
be  unselfish,  to  anticipate  wants  and  supply  them,  to  be  gentle  and 
patient.     Then  the  boss  improves  him  others  ise.     He  makes  him 
rise  early,  attend  to  meal  hours,  and  to  be  cleanly.     He  softens 
ana  improves  the  heart.     Who  is  there  that  ever  went  into  a  sta- 
ble of  a  morning,  and  his  crittur  whinnered  to  him  and  played  his 
ears  back  and  forward,  and  turned  his  head  affectionately  to  him 
and  lifted  his  fore  feet  short  and  moved  his  tail,  and  tried  all  he 
could  to  express  his  delight,  and  say  '  morning  to  you,  master,'  or 
when  he  went  up  to  the  manger  and  patted  his  neck,  and  the  lovin 
crittur  rubbed  his  head  agin  him  in  return,  that  didn't  think  within 
himself,  well,  after  all,  the  hoss  is  a  noble  crittur.     I  do  love  him. 
Is  it  nothin  to  make  a  man  love  at  all  ?     How  many  fellers  get 
more  kicks  than  coppers  in  their  life-have  no  home,  nobody  to 
love  them  and  nobody  to  love,  in  whose  breast  all  the  affections  are 
pent  up  until  they  get  unwholej^ome  and  want  ventilation.     Is  it 
nothin  to  such  an  unfortunate  crittur  to  be  made  a  stable  help.  Why 
it  elevates  him  in  the  scale  of  humanity.     He  discovers  at  last  he 
has  a  head  to  think  and  a  heart  to  feel.     He  is  a  new  man.  Hosses 
warn  t  given  to  us.  Doctor,  to  ride  steeple-chases,  or  run  races,  or 
brutify  a  man,  but  to  add  new  powers,  and  lend  new  speed  to  him 
He  was  destined  for  nobler  uses. 

"  Is  it  any  wonder  that  a  man  that  has  owned  old  Clay  likes  to 
talk  hoss  ?  I  guest;  not.  If  I  was  a  gall,  I  wouldn't  have  nothin 
to  sav  to  a  man  that  didn't  love  a  hoss,  and  know  all  about  him.  I 
wouldn't  touch  him  with  a  pair  of  tongs,  I'd  scorn  him  as  I  would 
a  nigger.  Sportsmen  breed  pheasants  to  kill,  and  amature  hunts- 
men shoot  deer  for  the  pleasure  of  the  slaughter.  The  angler  hooks 
salmon  for  the  cruel  delight  he  has  in  witnessing  the  strength  of 
their  dying  struggles.  The  black-leg  gentleman  runs  his  hoss  ugin 
time,  and  wins  the  race,  and  kills  his  noble  steed,  and  sometimes 
loses  both  money  and  hoss ;  I  wish  to  gracious  he  always  did  ;  but 
the  rale  hossman.  Doctor,  is  a  rale  mati,  every  inch  of  him,  stock, 
lock,  and  barrel." 

"  Massa,"  said  Sorrow,  who  stood  listenin  to  me  as  I  was  warmin 
on  the  subject.  ♦'  Massa,  dis  hoss  will  bo  no  manner  of  remagina- 
ble  use  under  de  blessed  light  ob  de  sun." 

"  Why,  Sorrow  V 

"Cause,  Massa,  he  don't  understand  one  word  of  English,  and 
de  Frenchjie  knows,  nolibbin  soul  can  understand  but  a  Cheeren- 
coorcer.  s.  an,  yan,  yaa !  Dey  caiied  iiiiu  n  '  shoveV  and  his  tail  a 
'  queue. 

'I  What  a  goose  you  are.  Sorrow,"  sais  I. 

"  Fac,  Massa,"  he  said,  "  fac  I  do  ressure  yon.  and  dey  called  de 


306 


THE  devil's   hole; 


little  piggy  Doctor  fell  over,  '  a  coach,'  Dod  drat  my  hide  if  they 
didn't,  yah,  yah,  yah  !" 

"The  English  ought  to  inaport,  Doctor,"  sals  I,  "  some  of  these 
into  their  country,  for  as  to  ridin  and  diivin,  there  is  nothing  like 
thdin.  But  catch  Britishers  admitting  there  is  anything  good  in 
Canada,  but  the  office  of  Governor-General,  the  military  commands 
and  other  pieces  of  patronage,  which  they  keep  to  themselves,  and 
then  they  say  they  have  nothing  left.  Ah  me !  times  is  altered,  as 
Elgin  knows.  The  pillory  and  the  peerage  have  changed  places. 
Once,  a  man  who  did  wrong  was  first  elevated,  and  then  pelted,  A 
peer  is  now  assailed  with  eggs,  and  then  exalted." 

^^  Palma/i  qui  ineruit  ferat,"  said  the  Doctor. 

"  Is  that  the  Latin  for  how  many  hands  high  the  horse  is  ?"  sais 
I.     "  Well,  on  an  average,  say  fifteen,  perhaps  oftener  less  than 
more.     It's  the  old  Norman  horse  of  two  centuries  ago,  a  com- 
pound of  the  Flemish  stock  and  the  Barb  introduced  into  the  Low- 
Countries  by  the  Spaniards.     Havin  been  transported  to  Canada 
at  that  early  period,  it  has  remained  unchanged,  and  now  may  be 
ea-led  a  distinct  breed,  differing  widely  in  many  respects  from  those 
found  at  the  present  day  in  the  locations  from  which  they  originally 
came.     But  look  at  the  amazin  strength  of  his  hip,  look  at  the  lines, 
and  anatomical  formation  (as  you  would  say)  of  his  frame,  which 
fit  him  for  both  a  saddle  and  a  gig  boss.     Look  at  his  chest,  not 
too  wide  to  make  him  paddle  in  his  gait,  nor  too  narrow  to  limit 
his  wind.     Observe  all  the  points  of  strength.     Do  you  see  the 
bone  below  the  knee,  and  the  freedom  of  the  cord  there.     Do  you 
mark  the  eye  and  head  of  the  Barb.     Twig  the  shoulder,  the  iden- 
tical  medium  for  a  horse  of  all  work,  and  the  enormous  power  to 
shove  him  ahead.     This  fellow  is  a  picture,  i.nd  I  am  glad  they 
have  not  mutilated  or  broken  him.     He  is  just  the  boss  I  have  been 
looking  for,  for  our  folks  go  in  to  the  handle  for  fast  trotters,  and 
drive  so  much,  and  ride  so  little,  it  aint  easy  to  get  the  right  saddle 
beast  in  our  State.     The  Cape  Br^  .on  pony  is  of  the  same  breed, 
though  poor  feed,  exposure  to  t  e  weather,  and  rough  usage,  has 
caused  him  to  dwindle  in  size  ;  but  they  are  the  toughest,  hardiest, 
strongest,  and  most  serviceable  of  their  inches,  I  know  anywhere." 
I  always  feel  scared  when  I  git  on  the  subject  of  bosses,  for  fear 
I  should  ear-wig  people,  so  I  stopt  short ;  "  and,"  sais  I,  "  Doctor, 
I  think  I  have  done  pretty  well  with  the  talking  tacks,  spose  you 
give  me  some  of  your  experien  ;e  in  the  trapping  line,  you  must 
have  had  some  strange  adventures  in  your  time." 

"  Well,  I  have,"  said  he,  "  but  J  have  li  itened  with  pleasure  to 
you,  for  although  I  am  not  experienced  in  horses,  performing  most 
of  my  journeys  on  fcot,  1  see  you  know  what  you  are  talking 
about,  for  I  am  familiar  .vith  the  anatomy  of  the  horse.  My  road 
is  the  trackless  forest,  and  I  am  more  at  home  there  tha,n  in  a  city. 


OR,     PISH    AND    FLESH. 


307 


Like  you  I  am  fond  of  nature,  but  unlike  you  I  know  little  of 
human  nature,  and  I  would  rather  listen  to  your  experience  than 
undergo  the  labor  of  acquiring  it.  Man  is  an  artificia!  animal,  but 
all  the  inhabitants  of  the  forest  are  natural.  The  study  of  their 
habits,  propensities,  and  instincts  is  very  interesting,  and  in  thla 
country  the  only  one  that  is  formidable,  is  the  bear,  for  he  is  not 
only  strong  and  courageous,  but  he  has  the  power  to  climb  trees, 
which  no  other  animal  will  attempt  in  pursuit  of  man,  in  Nova 
Scotia.  The  bear,  therefore,  is  an  ugly  customer,  particularly  the 
female,  when  she  has  her  young  cubs  about  her,  and  a  man  requires 
to  have  his  wits  about  him,  when  she  turns  the  table  on  him  and 
hunts  him.  But  you  know  these  things  as  well  as  I  do,  and  to  tell 
you  the  truth,  there  is  Utile  or  nothing  that  is  new  to  be  said  on 
the  subject ;  one  bear  hunt  is  like  another.  The  interest  of  t'  ese 
things  is  not  so  much  in  their  incidents  or  accidents,  as  in  the  m.  id 
of  telling  them." 

*'  'I  hat's  a  fact,"  sais  I,  "  Doctor.  But  what  do  you  suppose  was 
the  object  Providence  had  in  view  in  filling  the  world  with  beasts 
of  prey  "i  The  east  has  its  lions  and  tigers,  its  boa-constrictors  and 
anacondas ;  the  south  its  panthers  and  catamounts ;  the  north  its 
bears  and  wolves ;  and  the  west  its  crocodiles  and  rattle-snakes. 
We  read  that  dominion  was  given  over  the  birds  of  the  air,  the 
fish  of  the  sea,  and  the  beasts  of  thc>  forest,  and  yet  no  man  in  a 
state  of  nature,  scarcely,  is  a  match  for  any  one  of  these  createres ; 
they  don't  minister  to  his  wants,  and  he  can't  tame  them  to  his 

u 


uses 


"  I  have  often  asked  myself.  Slick,"  said  he,  "  the  same  question, 
for  nothing  is  made  in  vain,  but  it  is  a  query  not  easy  to  answer. 
My  own  opinion  is,  they  were  designed  to  enforce  civilization. 
Without  these  terrors  attending  a  sojourn  in  the  wilderness,  man 
would  have  wandered  off  as  they  do,  and  lived  alone ;  he  would 
have  made  no  home,  dwelt  with  no  wife,  and  nurtured  no  children. 
His  descendants  would  have  done  the  same.  When  he  encountered 
another  male,  he  would  have  given  him  battle,  perhaps,  killed  and 
eat  him.  His  very  language  would  have  perished,  if  ever  he  had 
any,  and  he  would  have  been  no  better  than  an  ourang-outang.  The 
option  was  not  given  him.  He  wps  so  constructed  and  so  situated, 
he  could  not  live  alone.  Individual  strength  was  insufficient  for 
independent  existence.  To  preserve  life  he  had  to  herd  with  his 
kind.  Thus  tribes  were  first  formed,  and  to  preserve  one  tribe  from 
the  violence  of  another,  they  again  united  and  formed  nations. 
This  combination  laid  the  foundation  of  civilization,  and  as  that 
v.xtended,  these  beasts  of  p^'ev  retired  to  the  confines  of  the  coun- 
try, enforcing  while  they  slill  remain,  the  observance  of  that  law 
of  nature  which  assigned  to  them  this  outpost  duty. 

"  Where  there  is  nothing  revealed  to  us  on  the  subject,  all  is  lef^ 


.i|i'' 


iil 


|B 


III 


808 


THE     CCOUMBER     LAKE, 


to  conjecture.  Whatever  the  cause  was,  we  know  it  was  a  wise 
and  a  necessary  one ;  and  this  appears  to  me,  to  be  the  most  plau- 
sible  reason  I  can  assign.  Perhaps  we  may  also  trace  a  farther 
purpose  in  their  creation,  in  compelling  by  th*^  terror  they  inspire 
the  mlenor  animals  to  submit  themselves  to  man,  who  is  alone 
able  to  protect  them  against  their  formidable  enemies,  or  to  con- 
gregate, So  that  he  may  easily  find  them  when  he  requires  food  • 
and  may  we  not  further  infer  that  man  also  may  by  a  similar  sense 
of  weaknef-s  be  led  to  invoke  in  like  manner  the  aid  of  him  who 
made  ail  things  and  governs  all  thinga.  Whatever  is,  is  right '» and 
then  he  quoted  two  Latin  lines. 

1  hate  to  have  a  feller  do  that,  it's  like  throwin  an  apple  into  the 
water  before  a  boy.  He  either  has  to  lose  it  and  go  off  disap. 
pomted,  wondf^rin  what  its  flavor  is,  or  else  wade  out  for  it,  and 
like  as  not  get  out  of  his  depth  afore  he  knows  where  he  is.  So  I 
generally  make  him  first  translate  it,  and  then  write  it  down  for 
me.  He  ain't  likely  after  that  to  do  it  a  second  time.  Here  are 
the  words : 

"  Si  quid  novigti  rectius  istis 
,  Candidus  imperii,  si  non  his  utere  mecura." 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

THE    CUCUMBER    LAKE. 

"  Herb  is  a  place  under  the  lee-bow,"  said  the  Pilot,  « in  which 
there  are  sure  to  be  some  coasters,  among  whom  the  mate  may 
find  a  market  for  his  wares,  and  make  a  good  exchange  for  his 
mackarel."  "^ 

So  we  accordingly  entered,  and  cast  anchor  among  a  fleet  of  fore- 
and-afters,  in  one  of  those  magnificeni;  ports  with  which  the  eastern 
coast  is  so  liberally  supplied. 

"There  is  some  good  salmon-fishing  in  the  stream  that  falls  into 
the  harbor,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  suppose  we  try  our  rods ;"  and 
while  Cutler  and  his  people  were  occupied  in  traflic,  we  rowed  up 
the  river,  beyond  the  little  settlement  which  had  nothing  attractive 
m  It,  and  landed  at  the  last  habitation  we  could  see.  Some  thirty 
or  forty  acres  had  been  cleared  of  the  wood,  the  fields  were  well- 
fenced,  and  a  small  stock  of  horned  cattle,  principally  young  ones, 
and  a  few  sheep  were  grazing  in  the  pasture.  A  substantiafrough 
lOg  iiut  and  barn  were  the  only  buildings.  With  the  exception  of 
two  little  children  playing  about  the  door,  therp  were  none  of  the 
family  to  be  seen. 


THE     OUODMBEB    LAKE. 


S09 


On  entering  tne  house,  we  found  a  young  woman,  who  appeared 
to  be  Its  sole  occupant.     She  was  about  twenty.five  years  of  ace  • 
itir'^^^'"''"- '^•^'  «'^""g'/"d  apparently  in  the  enjoyment  of  good 
health  and  spirits.    She  had  a  fine  open  countenance,  an  artless  and 
prepossessing  manner,  and  was  plainly  but  comfortably  clad  in  the 
ordinary  homespun  of  the  country,  and  not  only  looked  neat  her- 
self but  everything  ar   M„d  her  was  beautifully  clean.    It  was  man- 
ifest  shehau  oeen  brouj^nt  up  in  one  of  the  older  townships  of  the 
province  for  there  was  an  easd  and  air  about  her  somewhat  supe- 
nor  to  the  log  hut  in  which  we  found  her.     The  furniture  was  aim- 
pie  aniof  rude  manufacture,  but  sufficient  for  the  wants  of  a  small 
family  though  here  and  the:e  was  an  article  of  a  different  kind  and 
old-fashioned  shape,  that  looked  as  if  it  had  once  graced  a  substan- 
tial farm-house;  probably  a  present  from  the  inmates  of  the  old 
homestead. 

We  soon  found  from  her,  that  she  and  her  husband  were,  as  she 
said,  new  beginners,  who,  like  most  persons  in  the  wilderness,  had 
had  many  difficulties  to  contend  with,  which  from  accidental  causes, 
had  during  the   past  year  been   greatly  increased.     The  weavil 
had  destroyed  their  grain  crop  and  the  rot  their  potatoes    their 
mam  dependence,  and  they  had  felt  the  pressure  of  hard  times 
She  had  good  hopes  however,  she  said,  for  the  present  Houson,  for 
they  had  sowed   the  golden  straw  wheat,  which  they  heard  was 
exempt  from  the  ravages  of  insects,  and  their  potatoes  had  been 
planted  early  on  burnt  land,  without  manure,  and  she  was  confident 
they  would  thereby  be  rescued  from  the  disease.     Her  husband 
she  informed  us,  in  order  to  earn  some  money  to  make  up  for  their  ^ 
losses,  had  entered  on  board  of  an  American  fishing  vessel  and  she 
wasm  daily  expectation  of  his  arrival,  to  remain  at  home,  until  the 
ciiptam  «hou  d  ca  1  for  him  again,  after  he  had  landed  his  cargo  at 
Portland.     All  this  was  told  in  a  simple  ana  unafTected  manner 
but  there  was  a  total  absence  of  complaint  or  despondency    which 
often  accompany  the  recital  of  such  severe  trials.  '  ' 

Having  sent  Sorrow  back  in  the  boat,  with  an  injunction  to 
watch  our  signal  of  recall,  we  proceeded  further  up  the  river  and 
commenced  fishing.  Jn  a  short  time  we  killed  two  beautiful  sal- 
mon,  but  the  black  flies  and  musquitoes  were  so  intolerably  trou- 
blesome, we  were  compelled  to  return  to  the  log  hut.  1  asked 
permission  of  ojr  cheerful,  tidy  young  hostess  to  broil  a  piece  of 
the  salmcn  by  the  fire,  more  for  the  purpose  of  leaving  the  fish 
with  her  than  anything  else,  when  she  imrhediately  ofl^ered  to  per- 
form that  friendly  oflice  for  us  herself.  ' 

"  I  believe.'   sho  snirl   "  I  hnva  a  rlt.o«,;r,/»  ^f  *. i-^v"  -     i  -   i  • 

rom  the  shelf  a  small  mahogany  caddy,  emptied  it  of  its  contents! 
It  was  all  she  had.  The  flour-barrel  was  also  examined,  and  enough 
was  gathered,  :.8  she  said  by  great  good  luck,  to  make  a  few  cakes. 


lifl 


310 


THB    OUOUMBEB     LAKE, 


1 


Her  old  man,  she  remarked,  for  so  she  termed  her  young  husbani 
would  be  back  in  a  day  or  two,  and  bring  a  fresh  supply.  To 
relieve  her  of  our  presence,  while  she  was  busied  in  those  prepara. 
tions,  we  strolled  to  th^.  bank  of  the  river,  where  the  breeze  in  the 
open  ground  swept  away  our  tormentors,  the  venomous  and  rav- 
enous  flies,  and  by  the  time  our  meal  was  ready,  returned  almost 
Icided  with  trout.  I  do  not  know  that  I  ever  enjoyed  anything 
more  than  this  unexpocto  i  meul.  The  cloth  was  snowy  white,  the 
butter  delicious,  and  the  eggs  fresh  laid.  In  addition  to  this,  and 
what  rendered  it  so  acceptable,  it  was  a  free  offering  of  the  heart. 
In  the  course  of  conversation  I  learned  from  her,  that  the  first 
year  they  had  been  settled  there  they  had  been  burnt  out,  and  lost 
-otrly  all  they,  had,  but  she  didn't  mind  t'.at,  she  said,  for,  thank 
God,  she  had  saved  her  children,  and  she  believed  they  had 
originally  put  up  their  building  in  the  wrong  place.  The  neighbors 
had  been  very  kind  to  them;  helped  them  to  erect  a  new  and  larger 
house,  .lear  the  beautiful  spring  we  saw  in  the  green  ;  and  besides, 
she  and  her  husband  were  both  young,  and  she  really  believed  they 
were  better  cH"  than  they  were  before  the  accidenc. 

r  )or  things  she  didn't  need  words  of  comfort ;  her  reliance  on 
Providence,  and  their  own  exertions,  was  so  gr.-at,  she  seemed  to 
ha;'e  no  doubt  as  to  their  ultimate  success.  Still,  thojgh  she  did 
not  1  quire  encouragement,  confirmation  of  her  hopes  I  kncwvvould 
be  f;vaieful  to  her,  and  I  told  her  to  tell  her  husband  on  no  account 
to  think  of  parting  with  or  removing  from  the  place,  for  I  observed 
there  was  an  extensive  intervale  of  capital  quality,  an  excellent 
mill  privilege  on  the  stream  where  I  caught  the  salmon,  and  as  he 
had  the  advantage  of  water  carriage,  that  the  wood  on  the  place, 
which  was  of  a  quality  to  suit  the  Halifax  markets,  would  soon 
place  him  in  independent  circumstances. 

"He  will  be  glad  to  hear  you  think  so,  sir,"  she  replied,  "for  ht 
has  often  said  the  very  same  thing  himself,  but  the  folks  at  the 
settlement  laugh  at  him,  when  he  talks  that  way,  „n.'i  say  he  is  too 
sanguine.  But  I  am  sure  he  aint,  for  it  is  very  much  like  my  pooi 
father's  place  in  C^M-^efrier,  only  it  has  the  privilege  of  a  harbor, 
which  he  had  not,  and  thul  ij  a  great  <!nr  ^'." 

The  signal  for  Sorrow  hav.ng  been  hung  out  for  some  time,  we 
rose  to  take  leave,  anc  wishing  to  find  an  excuse  for  leaving  some 
money  behind  me,  and  recollecting  having  seen  some  cows  in  the 
field,  I  asked  her  if  she  could  sell  me  some  of  her  excellent 
butter  for  the  use  of  th^  cabin.  She  said  she  could  not  do  so,  for 
the  cows  all  had  cabx^  and  she  made  but  little ;  but  she  had  five 
or  six  small  prints,  .f  I  would  accept  them,  and  she  could  fill  me  a 
bottU;  or  two  with  cream. 

I  felt  much  hurt— I  didn't  know  what  to  do.     She  had  given  me 
tea,  baked  her  last  cake,  and  presented  me  with 


ounce 


.   v-« 


y .,« 


THE    OUCUMBEH     LAKK. 

all  tho  b'-tter  sho  had  in  the  house.     «  Co 


SIX 


done  that?"  said  J  to  myself, 


uld  or  Mould  yju  have 

Well  Sninrn  1,    1    u '• i'     7"'^' ^ *"^' ''Peak  the  truth  now." 

VV  ell  Squ.re,  ]  o„ly  brag  when  I  have  a  right  to  boast,  though  voa 
do  say  1  am  ahvays  brim  full  of  it,  and  I  >von't  go  for  to  deJivo 
you  or  mysef  either,  I  know  I  couldn't,  that'3  a  fact  I  have  mhced 
too  much  w.th  the  world,  my  feelings  have  got  blunted  and  my 
heart  amt  no  longr.r  as  soft  as  it  used  to  d'd  to  be      I  can  irive  anX 

M  hat  1  don  t  miss  ;  but  to  give  as  this  poor  woman  did  all  she  had 
of  hese  two  indispensable  articles,  tea  and  flour,  is  a  thin,  there  is 
no  two  ways  about  it,  I  could  not.  '^ 

I  must  say  I  was  in  a  fix  ;  if  1  was  to  offer  to  pay  her  I  knew  I 
should  only  wound  her  feelings.  She  deriv-.d  f'easure  from  her 
hospitality,  why  should  I  deprive  her  of  that  grat^^.at  on  If  shI 
delighted  to  give,  why  should  I  not  in  a  like  feeling  beTlVn.  d  to 
beZdr  "  "  T'f'^  r^P^'""  ^^^  "^'  '^'^  M'asisired-must  I 

She  shall  have  her  way  this  hitch,  and  so  will  I  have  mine  bime 
by,  or  the  deuce  is  in  the  die.  I  didn't  surely  come  to  lLcoX 
Harbir  to  be  ti-ught  those  tinngs  J^iscomoe 

and'u'"h:!'^"'.-^"'^""^''>^''  ''  "^  think  very  h:,\Iy  of  his  location, 
i  lorboZll''^"?"^,^"  P'"^^  h""'  «^  J^«  "-eds  a  helping 
hand,  1  am  bo  h  able  and  willing  to  assist  hirn,  and  will  have  ereat 

fn  hT^h  '•"  ^""\r  ^^?*  ^''  '^''  ''^'  ^''  ^  kindly  entertained  us 
m  his  absence.  Here  is  my  card  and  address,  if  he  wants  a  fdend 
let  him  come  to  me,  and  if  he  can't  do  that,  write  to  me  and  ho 

Sam  Sifck  five:.''  '^"''     ^"^  "^^"  '"  ^^^^^^  ^''^  ^^"  ^"- 
"Who?"  said  she. 
"  Sam  Slick,"  sais  I. 

sell  ^^'  l?,^^^*^'^''"  f^  «h^'  "  ^'•^  you  the  Mr.  Slick  who  used  to 
sell—       bhe  paused  and  colored   slightly,  thinking    perhaps   as 
many  people  do,  I  would  be  ashamed  !o  b^e'reminded  o^f  peSg 
T  .  T     ^°2^"  clocks,"  sais  I,  helping  her  to  the  word.     «  Yes  ""l « 
'  un""^         ^^'""^  ^^"^  Clockmaker,  at  least  what  is  left  of  me" 

rordfZl'-l^Z'^T  ""'^^\^  '^''  "'^'•'•'^"^'"S  and  shaking  hands 

cordialJy  w..h  me,     how  glad  I  am  to  see  you.     You  don'!  recol- 

ect  me    of  course,  1  have  grown  so  since  we  met,  and      don' 

at  my  father  s  old  house.  Deacon  Piint's,  as  well  as  if  it  was  ve. 
erday.     We  bought  a  clock  from  you  ;  you  asked  mccWsIea^ 
to  let  you  put  it  up,  and  leave  it  in  th^  rnnm  till  vo„  called  f'-- 

to"u  h^!f  ^^"  'rT:t  '^r  \°ft  «^^vder"  to  get  Hinto  th^  houseTand 
to  human  natur"  that  it  should  never  come  out  of  it.  How  iften 
^u.  folks  have  laughed  over  that  story.     Dear,  dear,  only  to  think 


812 


THS     CUCUMBER     LAKE. 


we  should  have  ever  met  again,"  and,  going  to  a  trunk,  she  tooK 
out  of  a  bark-box  a  silver  sixpence  with  a  hole  in  it,  by  which  it 
was  suspended  on  a  black  ribbon. 

*'  See,  sir,  do  you  recollect  tliat,  you  gave  that  to  me  for  a  keep, 
sake?  you  said  it  was  'luck-money.'" 

"Well,"  sais  ],  '•'•if  that  don't  pass,  don't  it?  Oh,  dear,  how 
glad  I  am  to  see  you,  and  yet  how  sad  it  makes  me,  too.  I  am  de- 
lighted at  meetin  you  so  onexpected,  and  yet  it  makes  me  feel  so 
old  it  scares  me.  It  only  seems  as  if  it  was  the  other  day  when  I 
was  at  your  house,  and  since  then  you  have  growd  up  from  a  little 
girl  into  a  tall  handsome  woman,  got  married,  been  settled,  and  are 
the  mother  of  two  children.  Dear  me,  its  one  o'  the  slaps  old 
Father  Time  gives  me  in  the  face  sometimes,  as  much  as  to  hint,  'I 
say,  Slick,  you  are  gettin  too  old  now  to  talk  so  much  nonsense 
as  you  do.'  Well,"  sais  I,  "my  words  have  come  true  about 
that  silver  sixpence. 

"  Come  here,  my  little  man,"  sais  I  to  her  pretty  curly-headed 
little  boy,  "  come  here  to  me,"  and  I  resumed  my  seat.  "  Now," 
sais  I,  "  my  old  friend,  I  will  show  you  how  that  prophesy  is  fiil- 
filled  to  this  child.  That  clock  I  sold  to  Deacon  Flint  only  cost  me 
five  dollars,  and  five  dollars  more  would  pay  duty,  freight,  and 
carriage,  and  all  expenses,  which  left  five  pounds  clear  profit, 
but  that  Avarn't  the  ieast  share  of  the  gain  :  it  introduced  my  wares 
all  round  and  through  the  country,  and  it  would  have  paid  me  well 
if  1  had  given  him  a  dozen  clocks  for  his  patronage.  I  always 
thought  I  would  return  him  that  profit  if  1  could  see  him,  and  as  I 
can't  do  that,  I  will  give  it  to  this  little  boy,"  so  I  took  out  my 
pocket-book  and  gave  her  twenty  dollars  for  him. 

"  Come,"  sais  I,  "my  friend,  that  relieves  my  conscience  now  of 
a  debt  of  gratitude,  iOr  that  is  what  I  always  intended  to  do  if  I  got 
a  chance." 

Well,  she  took  it,  said  it  was  very  kind,  and  would  be  a  great 
help  to  them ;  but  that  she  didn't  see  what  occasion  there  v/as  to 
return  the  money,  for  it  was  nothing  but  the  fair  profit  of  a  trade, 
and  the  clock  was  a  most  excellent  one,  kept  capital  time,  and  was 
still  stand-ng  in  the  old  house. 

Thinks  I  to  myself,  "  you  have  taught  me  two  things,  my  pretty 
friend;  first,  how  to  give,  and  second,  how  to  receive." 

Well,  we  bid  her  good-bye,  and  after  we  aad  proceeded  a  short 
distance  I  returned. 

Sais  I,  "  Mrs.  Steele,  there  is  one  thing  I  wish  you  would  do  for 
me  ;  is  there  any  cranberries  in  this  neighborhood  ?" 

"  Plenty,  Sir,"  she  said  ;  "  at  the  head  of  this  river  there  is  an 
immense  bog,  chock  full  of  them.'' 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  there  is  nothin  in  natur  I  am  so  fond  of  as  them ; 
I  would  give  anything  in  the  world  for  a  few  bushel.     Tell  ycur 


THE    CUCUMBER    LAK 


E, 


813 


husband  to  employ  some  people  to  pick  me  this  fall  a  barrel  of 

o's"iiVr  ^r^^  i^'T  '"r"^"  ^^  ^"^  '^  «"^  ^««««^«.  directed  to  me 
L?;';ay%br1t."'"  '  ^^  ^"  '^^^'  '  ^'''  ^^"^  ^^  ^  ^--1  of' 

"  Dear  me  Sir,"  said  she,  "  .hat's  a  great  deal  more  than  thp,V 
value;  why  they  ain't  worth  more  thin  two  doCs!  We  wiU 
pick  them  for  you  ^.'lth  great  pleasure.     We  don't  want  pay  '' 

"  Am  t  they  worth  that?"  sr-id  I,  "so  much  the  bet  e?^' Well 
then  he  can  send  me  another  barrel  the  next  year.     Why  therare 
8^  cheap  as  bull  oeef  at  a  cent  a  pound.     Good  bye ;  telf  h  mTo  be 
AdiU^  ''"'  "^'  '''  "^  ''''  «^^^  '^'  ^-  goes' tolhe  Stat 's 

in  '.' ^,^^\^^^yo»,think  of  that,  Doctor,"  said  I,  as  we  proceeded 
to  the  boat ;  "  am't  that  a  nice  woman  ?  how  cheerful  an^d  uncom 
p  aming  she  is;  howfull  of  nope  and  confidence  in  the  future      C 
heart  is  m  the  nght  place,  ain^t  it  ?     My  old  mother  had  tL^t  same 

tro?gLXn"^^^^  "^^^'  r'^P^^  ^-  resignation  w" 

stronger  than  her  hope.     When  anything  ever  went  wrone  about 

our  place  to  home  to  Slickville,  she'd  always  say,  '  Weriam  it 

m.ght  have  been  worse  ;'  or,  '  Sam,  the  darkest  hour  is  a\l^s]C 

afore  day,'  and  so  on.     But  Minister  used  to  amuse  me  CS 

anything,  poor  old  soul.     Once  the  congregation  met  and  raised  h"s 

wages  from  three  to  four  hundred  dollars  a-year.     Well  it  n earl v 

set  him  crazy  ;  it  bothered  him  so  he  could  hardly  sreep.'    So  after 

church  wa.  over  the  next  Sunday,  he  sais,  'M/dear^ brethren   I 

hear  you  have  raised  my  salary  (o  four  hundred  dollars!     I  am 

greatly  obhged  to  you  for  your  kindness,  but  I  can't  think  of  takhi^ 

It  on  no  account.     First  you  can't  afford  It  no  how  you  can  fix  it^ 

and     know  it;  secondly,  [  ain't  worth  it,  and  you  know  ^  and 

thirdlv,  I  am  nearly  tired  to  death  collecting  my  present  income 

stand  i^  \\^7i^'  T'  ""^  '^^  ^h^^'  ^'  -ill  'ill  me  TZl 
stand  It ;  I  sha  1  die.  No,  no ;  pay  me  what  you  allow  me  more 
punctually  ana  ,t  is  all  I  ask,  or  will  ever  receive.' 

But  this  poor  woman  is  a  fair  sample  of  her  class  in  this 
country  ;  I  do  believe  the  only  true  friendship  and  hospitality  is  to 
be  found  among  them  ihey  ain't  rich  enough  for  ostentation  and 
aie  wo  equal  m  condition  and  circumstances  for  the  actioA  of 
jealousy  or  rivalry  ;  1  believe  they  are  the  happiest  people  in  it 
world  but  I  know  they  are  the  kindest.  Their  feelings  are  i  oJ 
0  i  .h.V'''^''  ^  or  corrupted  by  plenty;  their  occupations  pre- 
clude the  hope  of  wealth,  and  forbid  the  fear  of  distress.  Depend- 
ant  on  each  other  for  mutual  assistance,  in  those  things  tha?  are 
beyond  individual  exertion,  thou  Jpfprfbop^^  a.j„.,ji..  ^S:..^      '  •  u 

"TZZff^  '?  %r'''y^  S''^-  "^^«  ^^^''^''  ^"d  soon  become  the 

laboi  of  love.      They  are  poor,  but  not  destitute,  a  region  in  my 

op.nion  m  which  the  heart  is  more  fully  developed  than  in  a^j 


ilii 


n 


m 


m 


ill 


814 


THE    CUCUMBER    LAKE. 


P^  '5 


other.  Those  who  are  situa''d  like  Steele  and  his  vrife,  and  Cu.rv 
mence  a  settlemenc  in  the  woods,  with  the  previous  training  they 
have  received  in  the  rural  districts,  begin  at  the  i  end ;  but 
they  are  the  only  people  who  are  fit  t«  be  pioneers  .  ^he  forest. 
How  many  there  are  who  begin  at  the  wroifg  end  ;  perhaps  there 
is  no  one  subject  on  which  men  form  such  false  notions  as  the  mode 
of  settling  in  the  country,  whether  they  are  citizens  of  a  colonial 
town,  or  strangers  from  Great  Britain. 

'^  Look  at  that  officer  at  Plalifax  :  be  i":  the  l>est  dressed  man  in 
the  garrison  ;  he  is  well  got  up  always ;  he  looks  the  gentleman 
every  inch  of  him  ;  how  we'l  his  horses  are  groomed ;  how  perfect 
his  turn-out  looks;  how  well  appointed  it  is,  as  he  callsit.  He  and 
his  servant  and  his  cattle  are  a  little  bit  of  fashion  imported  from 
the  park  and  astonish  the  natives.  Look  at  his  wife,  ain't  she  a 
beautiful  creature?  they  are  proud  of,  and  were  just  made  for  each 
other,  This  is  not  merely  all  external  appearance  either ;  they 
are  accomplished  people;  they  sing,  they  play,  they  sketch,  they 
paint,  they  speak  several  languages,  they  are  well  read,  they  have 
many  resources.  Soldiering  is  dull,  and,  in  time  of  peace,  only  a 
police  service.  It  has  disagreeable  duties;  it  involves  repeated 
removals,  and  the  alternation  of  bad  ciimatei — from  Hudson's  Bay 
to  Calcutta's  Black  Hole.  The  juniors  c-''  the  regimental  officers 
are  mere  boys — the  seniors  great  empty  cartouch  boxes,  and  the 
women  have  cabals — there  is  a  SiWBeness  even  in  its  variety ;  but 
Avorse  than  all,  it  has  no  hon^e — in  short,  the  whole  thing  is  a  bore. 
It  is  better  to  sell  out  and  settle  in  the  province  ;  land  is  cheap ; 
their  means  are  ample,  and  more  than  sufficient  for  the  requirements 
of  the  colony ;  country  society  is  stupid ;  there  are  no  people  fit 
to  visit.  It  is  best  to  be  out  of  the  reach- of  their  morning  calls 
and  th^ir  gossip.  A  few  miles  back  in  the  woods  there  is  a  splendid 
stream  with  a  beautiful  cascade  on  it;  there  is  a  mag:uficent  lake 
communicating  with  several  others  that  form  a  chain  of  many  miles 
in  extent.  That  swelling  knoll  that  slopes  so  gently  to  the  water 
would  be  such  a  pretty  site  for  a  cottage-or/ze,  and  the  back-ground 
of  hanging  wood  has  an  indescribable  beauty  in  it,  especially  in  the 
autumn,  when  the  trees  are  one  complete  mass  of  variegated  hues. 
He  warms  on  liie  theme  as  he  dilates  on  it,  and  sings  as  he  turns 
to  nis  pretty  wife  : 

"  I  knew  by  the  smor.e  that  so  graccfuFly  curled 
Above  the  green  »!lms  that  a  cottage  was  near. 
And  I  said  if  there':i  peac  to  be  found  in  the  world, 
The  Vicart  that  is  humble  might  hc^e  foi"  it  here." 

ij,5--;-r    orvccv   iv   ]^i£;u,  iii;vv     uieiirjiiiii,    lu    cvCeiiie.        XlOn     c.i'^iiiiia 

to  see  it  grow  under  one's  own  eye,  the  work  of  one's  own  hand — ■ 
the  creation  of  one's  own  taste.     It  is  decided  on ;  Dechamps 


THE     CUOUMBEK    LAK 


E. 


316 


retires,  the  papers  go  in,  the  hero  goes  out-whut  a  relief-  no  in. 
spectmn  of  so  diers'  dirty  kits-no  parade  by  day-no  guads  nor 
rounds  by  n.ght-no  fatigue  parties  of  Jen  who  nefer  fatigue 
themselves-no  stupid  court  martial-no  horrid  punishments-no 
reviews  to  please  a  colonel  who  never  is  pleased,  or  a  general  who 
will  swear-no  marchmg  through  streets,  to  be  stared  at  by  hous^ 
maids  from  upper  windows,  and  by  dirty  boys  in  the  side  paths- 
no  procession  to  follow  brass  instru'mentl,  li/e  the  train  of  r^rc^; 
--no  bearded  band-master  with  his  gold  cane  to  lead  on  his  musi- 
cians and  no  bearded  white  goat  to  march  at  the  head  of  theZ. 
ment.     Aii,  all,  are  gone.  ° 

Jl  ^-^  'a  °"Af  ^^^^^^'  ^«  ^^^  played  at  soldiering  long  enough  • 
he  IS  t.red  of  the  game,  he  sells  out,  the  man  of  businesf  is  called 
in  /«.  lawyer  as  he  terms  him,  as  if  every  gentleman  kept  a  lawyer 
as  he  does  a  footman      He  is  in  a  hurry  to  have  the  purchase  com! 
pleted  with  as  l.ttle  delay  as  possible.     But  delays  will  occur    he 

To  do  bnPtn^  'T'T.'""  '"^  ^  '"'"  "^  ^"^h^"^^'  ^h«  h^«  "^tiling 
to  do  but  to  say  to  this  one  come,  and  he  cometh;  and  another  J 

and  he  goeth ;  do  this  and  it  is  done.     He  can't  pit  a  lawyer  unde; 
arrest  he  is  a  man  of  arrests  himself.     He  never  heard  of  an  attach- 
ment for  contempt,  and  if  he  had,  he  wouldn't  understand  it  •  for 
when  the  devil  was  an  attorney,  he  invented  the  term,  as  the  softest 
^md  k.ndes   name  for  the  hardest  and  most  unkind  process  there  is. 
Atachment  for  contempt,  what  a  mockery  of  Christian  forgiveness  » 
A  conveyancer  is  a  slow  coach,  he  must  proceed  cautiously   he 
has  a  long  journey  to  take,  he  has  to  travel  back  to  a  grant  fi'ora 
the  crown,  through  all  the  '  mesne'  conveyances.     He  don't  want 
a  mean  conveyance,  he  will  pay  liberally  if  it  is  only  done  quickly 
And  IS  informed  'mesne'  in  law  signifies  intermediate.     It  is  hard 
to  «ay   what  the  language  of  law  does  mean.     Then  there  are 
searches  to  be  made  in  the  record  offices,  and  the— damn   the 
searches,  for  he  is  in  a  hurry  and  loses  his  patience-search  at  the 
bankers  and  all  will  be  found  right.     Then  there  are  releases  and 
a.ssignments  a-nd  discharges.     He  can  stand  it  no  longer  he  releases 
his  lawyer   discharges  him,  and  assigns  another,  who  hints,  insi- 
nuates, he  don  t  charge;  but  gives  him  to  understand  his  predeces- 
sorwas  idle.     He  will  lose  no  time,  indeed  he  has  no  time  to  lose 
he  IS  so  busy  with  other  clients'  affairs,  and  is  as  slow  as  the  first 
man  was.  i-  '^  mioo 

"  But  at  last  it  is  done ;  the  titles  are  completed.  He  is  pre 
sented  with  a  huge  pile  of  foolscap  paper,  very  neatly  folded,  beau- 
tifully engrossed  and  endorsed  in  black  letters,  and  nicely  tied  up 
with  i-ed  tape,  wh.ch  with  sundry  plans,  surveys  and  grants,  are 
=ecjiea  ma  large  aispaich  box,  on  which  are  inscribed  fn  gold  let- 
ers  the  Upa^^mt  estate^  It  is  a  pretty  Indian  word  that,  it  means 
the    home  on  the  wave.'    It  is  the  original  name  of  that  gem  of  the 


i  I* 


I  , 


!     I 


816 


THE     CUCUMBER     LAKE, 


western  occati,  which  the  vulgar  inhabitants  have  christened  Prince 
"Edward's  Island. 

"  But  what  can  you  expect  of  a  people  whose  governor  calls  the 
gentry  ♦  the  upper  crust  of  society,'  and  who  in  their  turn  see  an 
affinity  between  a  Scotch  and  a  Roman  fiddle,  and  denounce  him  as 
a  Nero.  But  then  who  looks,  as  he  says,  for  taste  in  a  colony,  it 
Is  only  us  '  Englishmen'  who  have  any.  Yes,  ho  calls  this  place 
'  Epaigwit.'  It  has  a  distingu6  appearance  on  h  s  letters.  lie  has 
now  a  name,  the  next  thing  is  '  a  local  habitation.'  Well,  wo  won't 
stop  to  describe  it,  but  it  has  an  elegant  drawing-room,  if  there  was 
only  company  to  collect  in  it,  a  spacious  dining-room,  and  though 
only  two  plates  are  on  the  table,  there  is  room  for  twenty,  and  a 
charming  study  only  awaiting  his  leisure  to  eiijoy  it  and  so  on. 

"  It  is  done  and  the  design  carried  out,  though  not  completed  ; 
prudence  forbids  a  further  expenditure  just  now.  \\>  has  cost  five 
times  as  much  as  was  contemplated,  and  is  not  worth  a  tenth  part 
of 'he  outlay,  still  ii  is  very  beautiful.  Strangers  go  to  see  it,  and 
every  one  pronounces  it  the  prettiest  thing  in  the  Lower  provinces. 
There  have  been  some  little  drawbacks,  but  they  are  to  be  expected 
in  a  colony  and  among  the  Goths  and  Vandals  wno  live  there.  The 
contractors  have  repudiated  their  agreement  on  account  of  the 
extensive  alterations  mndc  in  the  design  and  the  nature  of  the 
work,  and  he  has  found  there  is  law  in  the  country,  if  not  justice. 
The  servants  find  it  too  lonely,  they  have  no  taste  for  the  beauties 
of  nature,  nnd  remain  without  work,  or  quit  without  notice.  If  ho 
rt'fusos  to  f  V  he  is  sued,  if  he  pays  he  is  cheated.  The  house  leaks, 
for  the  mat  ials  are  green,  the  chimneys  smoke,  for  the  drafts  are 
in  the  wron  ,  phice.  The  children  are  tormented  by  black  flies  and 
musquitoes,  and  their  eyes  arc  so  swelled  they  can't  see.  The 
bears  make  love  to  his  sheep,  and  the  minks  and  foies  devour  his 
poultry.  The  Indians  who  come  to  beg,  are  supposed  to  come  to 
murder,  and  the  negroes  who  come  to  sell  wild  berries  are  sus- 
pected to  come  to  steal.  Tie  has  no  neighbors,  he  did  not  desire 
any,  and  if  a  heavy  weight  has  to  be  lifted,  it  is  a  little,  but  not 
much  inconveni'^nce  to  send  to  the  town  for  assistance ;  and  the 
people  go  cheerfully,  for  they  have  only  five  miles  to  come,  and 
five  to  return,  and  they  arc  not  detained  more  than  five  minutes, 
for  he  never  asks  them  into  his  house.  The  butcher  won't  come 
so  far  to  carry  his  meat,  nor  the  baker  his  bread,  nor  the  postman 
to  deliver  his  letters. 

"  The  church  is  too  far  ofi^  and  there  is  no  school.  But  the  cler- 
gyman  is  lotfit  to  be  heard,  he  is  such  a  drone  in  the  pulpit;  and 
It  is  a  sweet  employ mei  train  one's  own  children,  who  thus 


avuiu  (.•unuuiuiuiiiou  by  iiol  iissociating  witn  vulgar  companions. 

"  These  are  trifling  vexations,  and  what  is  there  in  this  life  that 
had  not  some  little  diawback.     But  there  is  something  very  charm. 


THE     CUCUMBER     LAKE. 


817 


ing  in  perfoct  independence  in  living  for  each  other,  and  in  residing 
in  one  of  the  moat  delightful  spots  in  America,  surrounded  by  the 
most  exfjuisite  scenery  that  was  ever  beheld.     There  is  one  thing, 
however,  that  is  annoying.     The  country  people  will  not  ma,  or 
-dopt  that  pretty  word  '  Epaigwit,'  '  the  home  of  the  wave,'  which 
■  ais  in  beauty  of  conception,  an  eastern  expression.     The  place 
vv^   originally  granted  to  a  fellow  of  the  name  of  Umber,  who  was 
called  after  the  celebrated  navigator  'Cook.'     These  two  words 
when  united  soon  became  corrupted,  and  the  magnificent  sheet  of 
water  was  designated    '  the  Cucumber  Lake,'  while  its  splendid 
cataract  known  in  ancient  days  by  the  Indiana  as  the  'Pan-ook',  or 
'the  liiver's  Leap,'  is  perversely  called  by  way  of  variation  'the 
Cowcumber  Falls ;'  can  any  thing  be  conceived  more  vulgar  or 
more  vexatious,  unless  it  be  their  awkward  attempt  at  pronun- 
ciation, which  converts  Epr'.gwit  into  '  a  pigs  wit,'  and  Pan-hook 
into  'Pond-hook.' 

"But,  then,  what  can  you  expect  of  such  boors,  and  who  cares, 
or  what  does  it  matter,  for  after  all,  if  you  come  to  that,  the  'Cum- 
berlaiid  Lakes'  is  not  very  euphonious,  as  he  calls  it,  whatever  that 
means.  He  is  right  in  saying  it  is  a  beautiful  place,  and  as  he  often 
observes,  what  an  immense  sum  of  money  it  would  be  worth  if  it 
were  only  in  England  !  but  the  day  is  not  far  distant,  now  that  the 
Atlantic  is  bridged  by  steamers,  when  '  bag-men'  will  give  place  to 
tourists,  and  '  Epaigwit'  will  be  the  '  Killarney'  of  America.  He 
is  quite  right,  that  day  will  come,  and  so  will  the  millenium,  but  it 
is  a  good  way  off  yet ;  and  dear  old  Minister  used  to  say,  there 
was  no  dependable  authority  that  it  ever  would  come  at  all. 

"Now  and  then  a  brother  officer  visits  him.     Elliott  is  there 
now,  not  the  last  of  the  Elliotts,  for  there  is  no  end  of  them,  and 
though  only  a  hundred  of  them  have  been  heard  of  in  the  world, 
there  are  a  thousand  well  known  to  the  Treasury.     But  he  is  the 
last  chum  from  his  regiment  he  will  ever  see.     As  they  sit  after 
dinner,  he  hands  the  olives  to  his  friend,  and  suddenly  checks  him 
self,  saying,  I  forgot,  you  never  touch  the  '  afler-fced.'     Then  he 
throws  up  both  eyes  and  hands,  and  affects  to  look  aghast  at  the 
mistake.     '  lieally,'  he  sals,  '  1  shall  soon  become  as  much  of  a  boor, 
as  the  people  of  this  country.     I  hear  nothing  now  but  mowing, 
browsing,  and  '  after-feed,'  until  at  last  I  find  myself  using  the  lat- 
ter word  for  '  desert.'     He  say-  it  prettily,  and  acts  it  well,  and 
although  his  wife  has  often  listened  to  the  same  joke,  she  looks  as 
if  it  would  bear  repetition,  and  her  face  expresses  great  pleasure. 
Po(jr  Dechanips,  if  your  place  is  worth  nothing,  she,  at  least,  is  a 
treasure  above  all  price. 

"Presently,  Elliot  sais,  '  By-the-bye,  Dechamps,  have  you  heard 
we  are  ordered  to  Corfu,  and  embark  immediately.' 

"  Dear  me,  what  magic  there  is  in  a  word.     Sometimes  it  dia. 


Hf 


i'Wf 


f;bS 


't    ', 


818 


THE     OFCUMBER     LAKE. 


I ,  . 


closes,  in  painful  distinctness,  the  past ;  at  others,  it  reveals  a  pro- 
phecic  page  of  the  future ;  who  would  ever  suppose  there  was  any- 
thing in  that  little  insignificant  word,  to  occasion  a  thought,  unless 
it  was  whether  is  was  pronounced  Corfoo  or  Corfew,  and  it's  so 
little  consequence  which,  I  always  give  it  the  go  by  and  say  Ionian 
Isles. 

"  But  it  startled  Dechamps.  He  had  hoped  before  he  left  the 
army  to  have  been  ordered  there,  and  from  thence  to  have  visited 
the  classic  coasts  of  Greece.  Alas,  that  vision  has  gone,  and  there 
is  a  slight  sigh  of  regret,  for  possession  seldom  equals  expectation, 
and  always  cloys,  lie  can  never  more  see  his  regiment,  they  have 
parted  for  ever.  Time  and  distance  have  softened  st)me  of  the 
rougher  features  of  military  li4e.  Ke  thinks  of  the  joyous  days  of 
youth,  the  varied  scenes  of  life,  his  profession  exposed  to  his  view, 
and  the  friends  he  has  left  behind  him.  The  service  he  thinks  not 
so  intolerable,  after  all,  and  tnough  regimental  society  is  certainly 
not  what  he  siiould  choose,  especially  as  a  married  man,  yet,  ex- 
cept in  a  rollicking  corps,  it  may  at  least  negatively  be  said  to  be 
'  not  bad.' 

^  "  From  this  review  of  the  past,  he  turns  to  the  prospect  before 
him.  But,  he  discerns  something  that  he  does  not  like  to  contem- 
plate, a  slight  shadow  passes  Ovcr  his  face,  and  he  asks  Elliott  to 
pass  the  wine.  His  wife,  witli  the  quickness  of  perception  so  natu- 
ral to  a  woman,  sees  at  once  what  is  passing  in  his  mind  ;  for  simi- 
lar, but  deeper,  far  deeper  thoughts,  like  unbidden  guests,  have 
occupied  hers  many  an  anxious  hour.  Poor  thing,  she  at  once  per- 
ceives  her  duty,  and  resolves  to  fulfil  it.  She  will  be  more  cheer- 
ful. She  at  least  will  never  murmur.  After  all.  Doctor,  it's  no 
great  exaggeration  to  call  a  woman,  that  has  a  good  head  and  kind 
heart,  anc:  the  right  shape,  build,  and  bearings,  an  angel,  is  it  1  But 
let  us  mark  their  progress,  for  we  shall  be  better  abl'i  to  judge 
then. 

"Let  us  visit  Epaigwit again  in  a  few  yexrs.  Who  is  that  man 
near  the  gate,  that  looks  unlike  a  servant,  unlike  a  farmer,  unlike  a 
gentleman,  unlike  a  sportsman,  and  yet  has  a  touch  of  all  four 
characters  about  him  ?  He  has  a  shocking  bad  hat  on,  but  what's 
the  use  of  a  good  hat  in  the  woods,  as  poor  Jackson  said,  where 
there  is  no  one  to  see  it.  He  has  not  been  shaved  since  last  sheep- 
shearing,  and  has  a  short  black  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  the  tobacco 
smells  like  nigger-head  or  pig-tail.  He  wears  a  coarse  check  shirt 
without  a  collar,  a  black  silk  neck-cloth  frayed  at  the  edge,  that 
looks  like  a  rope  of  old  ribbons.  His  coat  appears  as  if  it  had 
once  been  new,  but  had  been  on  its  travels,  until  at  last  it  had  got 
pawned  to  a  Jew  at  Kag-alley.  His  waistcoat  was  formerly  buff, 
but  now  resembles  yellow  flannel,  and  the  buttons,  though  complete 
'ti  number,  are  of  different  sorts.     The  trowsers  are  homespun. 


THE     CUCUMBER    LAKE. 


819 


much  worn  and  his  boots  coarse  enough  to  swap  with  a  fisherman 
tor  mackerel.  His  air  and  look  betokens  pride  rendered  sour  bv 
poverty.  •' 

"But  there  is  something  worse  than  all  this;    somethin<^  one 
never  sees  without  disgust  or  pain,  because  it  is  the  sure  precursor 

.  ^  diseased  body,  a  shattered  intellect,  and  voluntary  degrada. 
tion.  Ihere  is  a  bright  red  color  that  extends  over  the  whole  face 
and  reaches  behind  the  ears.  The  whiskers  are  prematurely  tipped 
with  white,  as  if  the  heated  skin  refused  to  nourish  them  any  Ion- 
ger.  The  lips  are  slightly  swelled,  and  the  inflamed  skin  indicates 
inward  fever,  while  the  eyes  are  bloodshot,  the  under  lids  distended, 
and  incline  to  shrink  from  contact  with  the  heated  orbs  they  were 
destined  to  protect.  He  is  a  dram  drinker  ;  and  the  poison  that  he 
imbibes  with  New  England  rum,  is  as  fatal,  and  nearly  as  rapid  in 
Its  destruction  as  strikline. 

"Who  is  he ;  can  you  guess  ?  do  you  give  it  up  ?  He  is  that 
handsome  officer,  the  Laird  of  Epaigwit  as  the  Scotch  would  sav, 
the  general  as  we  should  call  him,  for  we  are  liberal  of  titles,  and 
the  man  that  lives  at  Co2^;-cumber  Falls  as  they  say  here.  Pooi 
fellow,  he  has  made  the  same  discovery  Sergeant  Jackson  did,  that 
there  is  no  use  of  good  things  in  the  woods  where  there  is  no  one 
to  see  them.  He  is  about  to  order  you  off  his  premises,  but  it 
occurs  to  him  that  would  be  absurd,  for  he  has  nothing  now  worth 
seeing.  He  scrutinises  you,  however,  to  ascertain  if  he  has  ever 
seen  you  before.  He  fears  recognition,  for  he  rVeads  both  your 
pity  and  your  ridicule ;  so  he  strolls  leisurely  back  to  the  house 
with  a  certain  bull-dog  air  of  defiance. 

"  Let  us  follow  him  thither ;  but  before  we  enter,  observe  there 
is  some  glass  out  of  the  window,  and  its  place  supplied  by  shingles. 
The  stanhope  is  in  the  coach-house,  but  the  bye-road  was  so  full  of 
stumps  and  cradle-hills,  it  was  impossible  to  drive  in  it,  and  the 
moths  have  eaten  the  lining  out.  The  carriage  has  been  broken  so 
often,  it  is  not  worth  repairing,  and  the  double  harness  has  been 
cut  up  to  patch  the  tacklin  of  the  horse-team.  The  shrubbery  has 
been  browsed  away  by  the  cattle,  and  the  rank  grass  has  choked 
all  the  rose  bushes  and  pretty  little  flowers.  What  is  the  use  of 
these  things  in  the  woods  ?  That  remark  was  on  a  level  with  the 
old  dragoon's  intellect;  but  I  am  surprised  at  this  intelligent  offi- 
cer, this  man  of  the  world,  this  martinet,  didn't  also  discover,  that 
he  who  neglects  himself,  soon  becomes  so  careless  as  to  neglect  his 
other  duties,  and  that  to  lose  sight  of  them  is  to  create  and  invite 
certain  ruin.     But  let  us  look  at  the  interior. 

'•  There  are  some  pictures  on  the  walls,  and  there  are  vellow 
stains  were  others  hung.  Where  are  they  'i  for  1  think  I  heard  a 
man  say  he  b(;ught  them  on  account  of  their  handsome  frames, 
from  that  crack-brained  officer  at  Cucumber  Lake,  and  he  shut  hia 


m 


t 


820 


THE    OUOUMBEB    LAKE 


eye,  and  looked  knowning,  and  whispered,  *  something  wrong  there, 
had  to  sell  out  of  the  anny ;  some  queer  story  about  another  wife 
still  living;  don't  know  j^articulars.'  Poor  Dechamps,  you  are 
guiltless  of  that  charge  at  any  rate  to  my  certain  knowledge  ;  but 
how  often  does  slander  bequeath  to  folly,  thit  which  of  riffht  belongs 
to  another!  The  nick-knacks,  the  antique  china,  the  Apostles' 
spoons,  the  queer  little  old-fashioned  silver  ornaments,  the  Trench 
clock,  the  illustrated  works,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing, — all,  all,  are 
gone.  The  housemaids  broke  some,  the  children  destroyed  others 
and  the  rest  were  sent  to  auction,  merely  to  secure  their  preservation. 
The  paper  is  stained  in  some  places,  in  others  has  pealed  off ;  but 
where  under  the  sun  have  all  the  accomplishments  gone  to  1 

••  The  piano  got  out  of  tune,  ?,nd  there  was  nobody  to  put  it  in 
order :  it  was  no  use ;  the  strings  were  taken    .ut,  and  the  case 
was  converted  into   a  cupboard.      The  machinery  of  the  harp 
became  rusty,  and  the  cords  were  wanted  for  something  else.     But 
what  is  the  use  of  these  things  in  the  woods  where  there  is  nobody 
to  see  them  1     But  here  is  Mrs.  Dechamps.     Is  it  possible  !     My 
goody  gracious  as  I  am  a  living  sinner !     Well  1  never  in  all  my 
born  days !  what  a  dreadful  wreck !  you  know  how  handsome  she 
was.     Well,  1  won't  describe  her  now,  I  pity  her  too  much.     'Yoa 
know  I  said  they  were  counterparts,  just  made  for  each  other,  and 
.  so  they  were ;  but  they  are  of  different  sexes,  made  of  different 
stuff",  and  trouble  has  had  a  different  eff'cct  on  them.     lie  has 
neglected  himself,  and  she  is  negligent  of  her  dress  too,  but  not  in 
the  same  way.     She  is  still  neat,  but  utterly  regardless  of  what 
her  attire  Is ;  but  let  it  be  A^hat  it  may,  and  let  her  put  on  what 
she  will,  still  she  looks  like  a  lady.     But  her  health  is  gone,  and 
her  spirits  too  ;  and  in  their  place  a  little,  delicate  hectic  spot  has 
settled  in  her  cheek,  beautiful  to  look  at,  but  painful  to  think  of. 
This  faint  blush  is  kindly  sent  to  corneal  consumption,  and  the 
faint  smile  is  assumed  to  hide  the  broken  heart.     If  it  didn't  sound 
unfeelin,  I  should  say  she  was  booked  for  an  eailv  train  ;  but  I 
think  so,  if  1  don't*  say  so.      The   hour  is  fixed,"  the  departure 
certain  ;  she  is  glad  to  leave  Epaigwit. 

"Somehow,  though,  I  must  say  I  am  a  little  disappointed  in  her. 
She  was  a  soldier's  wife ;  I  thought  she  was  made  of  better  stuff*, 
and  if  she  had  died  would  have  at  least  died  game.  Suppose  the/ 
hare  been  unfortunate  in  pitching  their  tent  '  on  the  ho'ne  of  the 
wave,'  and  g(>t  aground,  and  their  effects  have  been  thrown  over- 
board ;  what  is  that,  after  all  1  Thousands  have  done  the  same ; 
there  is  still  hope  for  them.  They  are  more  ^han  a  match  foi 
these  casualties  ;  how  is  it  she  has  given  up  so  soon  1  Well  don't 
allude  to  it,  but  there  is  a  sad  tragical  story  connected  with  that 
lake.  Do  you  recollect  that  beautiful  curly-headed  child,  her 
«ldest  daughter,  that  she  used  to  walk  with  at  Halifax  ?    Well, 


THE     CUCUMBER     LAKE, 


821 


«he  grew  up  into  a  magnificent  girl ;  she  was  full  of  health  and 
sp.nts,  and  as  fleet  and  as  wild  as  a  hare.  She  lived  in  the  woods 
and  on  the  lake.  She  didn't  shoot,  and  she  didn't  f^hbrshe 
accompanied  tho.e  who  did.  The  beautiful  but  dangerous  bark 
canoe  was  her  deligt;  she  never  was  happy  but  when'she  wast 

LJtr  ^^'''  ^^,°  ''iP^^"  ^'""y  ^^^y  ^^d  l-rought  with  them 
fom  the  regunent  who  alone  of  all  their  servants  "had  remained 
faithful  in  their  voluntary  exile,  was  the  only  one  permitted  to 
accompany  her;  for  he  was  so  careful,  so  expert,  and  so  good  a 
swimmer.  Alas !  one  night  the  canoe  returned^ioi.  WhatTlonc^ 
eager  anxious  night  was  that !  but  towards  noon  th-  next  dav  The 
upturned  bark  drif  d  by  the  shore,  and  then  it  was  buttoo  ev^d  nt 
that  that  sad  event  which  the  anxious  mother  had  so  often  dreaded 

oLrfTef  ^'^  '''1'  \^'''-     ^^'y  h'-^d  met  a  watery  grave 
Often  and  often  were  t*ie  whole  chain  of  lakes  explo'-ed  buf  thd^ 
bodies  were  never  found.     Entangled  in  the  long  gmss  and  sunken 
drif  wood,  that  covered  the  bottom  of  these  bfsins  i    was  no^ 
hkely  they  would  ever  rise  to  the  surface.  '  ^ 

'•Jtwas  impossible  to  contemplate  that  fearful  Iftke  without  a 

Emily  s  life  been  spared,  ehe  could  have  endured  any  and  eie.  v 
thing  for  her  sake.     Poor  thing !  how  little  she  kncVwhat    ha 
was  a  talking  about,  as  she  broke  the  seal  of  a  let  e    in  a  wefl! 
known   hand.      Her  life  was  spared;  it  never  was  endangered 
She  had  eloped  with  Tom  Hodges-she  had  reached  Boston-she 
was  very  happy -Tom  was  all  kindness  to  her.     She  hoped  thev 
wc  ;d  forgive  her  and  write  to  her,  for  they  were  going  to  Calf 
f^niia,  where  they  proposed  to  be  married  as  soon  as'they  arrived 
Whoever  appealed  to  a  mother  for  forgiveness  in  vain  ?^   E  cry! 
thm  ^appeared  in  a  new  light.     The  child  had  been  neglected     she 
ought  not  to  have  been  sutiered  to  spend  so  much  of  h?r  w'w  th 

gi  ou  n  up  ajid-it  was  no  use  to  say  more.  Her  father  had  locked 
her  out  oi  his  heart,  and  thrown  away  the  key  for  ever.  He  wished 
she  had  been  drowned,  for  in  that  case  she  would  hav^  ^'d 
innocent;  and  he  poured  out  such  a  torrent  of  imprecatfons  that 
he  poor  mother  was  terrified  lest,  as  the  PersiLs  ty  'th  se 
curses,  like  fowls,  might  return  home  to  roost,  or  like  prayers 
might  be  heard,  and  procure  mere  than  was  asked  ^    ^      ' 

You  may  grieve  over  the  conduct  of  a  child  and  lament  iu 
untimely  death,  and  trust  in  God  for  hi.  mercy ;'  but  no  human 

of 'a^chTl'd  'a'nd'  th  '''  '"^''^  f  ^'^"»"1'  '''  '''^'  ^^^^  ^^e  dec'^e 
of  a  child,  and  then  grieve  for  its  disgraceful  life ;  for  there  is  a 

f.'L%'^  w      ^'  ^''^''  '"^  ""^  ^'^^^'^^*^  ^^''^^^  tL  end  shall  bo 
ln^!L    \^  "'^^  endure  much,  but  there  is  a  load  that  crusheth. 
Poor  thing  !  you  were  right,  and  your  husband  wrong.     Woman- 
14* 


ill  ' 


Ml 


htta 


I  'ii 


*'ii 


1 
I', 


i 


Igj^'f 


822 


THK    OUCUMBKR     LAKB. 


like,  your  judgment  was  eorrect,  your  impukes  pcod.  and  your 
heart  in  the  right  phico.  The  child  was  not  to  be  blamed,  but  its 
parents.  You  could,  if  you  thought  proper,  give  up  society  and 
live  for  each  other ;  you  had  proved  it,  and  knew  how  hollow  and 
false  it  was;  but  your  children  could  not  resign  what  they  never 
had,  nor  ignore  teelings  which  God  had  implanted  within  ihem. 
Nature  has  laws  which  mubt  and  will  be  obeyed.  The  swallow 
selects  its  mate,  builds  its  nest,  and  occupies  itself  in  nurturing  its 
young.  The  heart  must  have  something  to  love,  and  if  it  is 
restricted  in  its  choice,  it  will  bestow  its  aifections  not  on  what  it 
would  approve  and  select,  but  upon  what  it  nmy  chance  to  find  ; 
you  are  not  singular  in  your  domestic  aflliction  ;  it  is  the  natural 
consequence  of  your  isolation,  and  I  have  known  it  happen  over 
and  over  again. 

"  Now,  Doctor,  let  us  return,  after  the  lapse  of  a  few  years,  as 
I  did,  to  Epaigwit.  I  shall  never  forget  the  impression  it  made 
upon  me.  It  was  about  this  season  of  the  year,  1  went  there  to 
fish,  intending  to  spend  the  night  in  a  camp,  so  as  to  be  ready  for 
the  morning  sport.  '  Why,  where  am  I,'  sals  I  to  myself,  when  I 
reached  the  place.  'Why,  surely  this  aiut  Cucumber  Lake  !  where 
is  that  beautiful  hanging  wood,  the  temptation  in  the  wilderness, 
that  ruined  poor  Dechamps  ?  gone,  not  cleared,  but  destroyed; 
not  subdued  to  cultivation,  but  reduced  to  desolation.'  Tall  gaunt 
black  trees  stretch  out  their  withered  arms  on  either  side,  as  if 
balancing  themselves  against  a  fall,  while  huge  trurks  lie  scattered 
over  ;he  ground,  where  they  fell  in  their  fierce  conflict  with  the  de- 
vouring fire  that  overthrew  them.  The  ground  is  thickly  covered 
with  ashes,  and  large  white  glistening  granite  rocks,  which  had  for 
merly  been  concealed  by  moss,  the  creeping  evergreen,  and  the 
smiling,  blushing  May-flower,  now  rear  their  cold  snowy  heads,  that 
contrast  so  strangely  with  the  funereal  pall  that  envelopes  all  around 
them.  No  living  thing  is  seen  there,  nor  bird,  nor  animal,  nor  in- 
sect, nor  verdant  plant;  even  the  hardy  fire- weed  has  not  yet 
ventured  to  intrude  on  this  scene  of  desolation,  and  the  woodpecker, 
afraid  of  the  atmosphere  which  chart  jal  has  deprived  of  vitality, 
shrinks  back  in  terror  when  he  approaches  it.  Poor  Dechamps, 
had  you  remained  to  witness  this  awful  conflagration,  you  would 
have  observed  in  those  impenetrable  boulders  of  granite,  a  type 
of  the  nard,  cold,  unfeeling  world  around  you,  and  in  that  withered 

u  blackened  forest,  a  fitting  emblem  of  your  blighted  and  blasted 


Uuu 


prospects. 

"  But  if  the  trees  had  dis>appeared  from  that  side  of  the  lake, 
they  had  been  reproduced  on  the  other.  The  fields,  the  lawn,  and 
the  garden  were  overrun  with  a  second  growth  of  wood  that  had 
nearly  concealed  the  house  from  view.  It  was  with  some  difficulty 
I  forced  my  v,  ay  through  the  chaparel  (thicket),  which  was  rendered 


THE    CUCDMBER     L^KB. 


828 


almost  impenetrable  I;/  thorns,  Vli'ginia  creepers,  noneysuckles, 
and  sweet-briars,  ihivt  had  spread  in  the  wildest  profusion.  The 
windows,  doors,  mantle-pieces,  bannisters,  and  every  pcitable  thing, 
had  been  removed  from  the  house  by  the  blacks,  who  had  squatted 
in  the  neighborliood  ;  oven  the  chinnu^yt  had  been  taken  down  for 
the  bricks.  The  swallows  were  the  solo  tenants;  the  barn  had 
fallen  a  prey  to  decay  and  storms,  and  the  roof  lay  comparatively 
tninjured  at  some  distance  on  the  ground.  A  pair  of  glistening 
eyes,  peeping  through  a  broken  board  at  the  end,  showed  mo  that 
the  foxes  had  appropriat-'d  it  to  their  own  use.  The  horse-stable, 
coach-house,  and  other  buildings,  wore  in  a  similar  state  of  dilapi- 
dation. 

"  1  returned  to  the  camp,  and  learned  that  Mrs.  Dcchamps  was 
reposing  in  peace  in  the  village  church-yard,  the  children  had  been 
sent  to  England  to  their  relatives,  and  the  Captain  was  residing  in 
California  with  his  daughter  and  Tom  Hodges,  who  were  the  richest 
people  in  San  Francisco." 

"  What  a  sad  picture,"  said  the  Doctor. 

"Well,  it's  true  ^'lough,"  said  I,  "  aint  it?" 

"  I  never  was  at  Cucumber  Lake,"  said  he,  smiling,  "  but  I  have 
known  several  similar  failures.  The  truth  is,  Mr.  Slick,  though  I 
needn't  toll  you,  for  you  know  better  than  I  do,  our  friend  Steele 
began  at  the  right  and  Dechamps  at  the  wrong  end.  The  poor 
native  ought  always  to  go  to  the  woods,  the  emigrant  or  gentleman 
never  ;  the  one  isa  rough  and  ready  man  ;  he  is  at  home  with  an 
axe,  and  is  conversant  as  well  with  the  privations  and  requirements, 
as  with  the  expedients  and  shifts  of  forest  life ;  his  condition  is 
ameliorated  every  year,  and  in  his  latter  days  he  can  afford  to  rest 
from  his  labors ;  whereas,  if  he  buys  what  is  called  a  half-improved 
farm,  and  is  unable  to  pay  for  it  at  the  time  of  the  purchase,  the 
mortgage  is  almost  sure  to  ruin  him  at  last.  Now,  a  man  of  means 
who  retires  to  the  countr^^  wholly  unfit  for  a  pioneer,  and  should 
never  attempt  to  become  one ;  he  should  purchase  a  farm  ready 
made  to  his  hands,  and  then  he  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  cultivate 
and  adorn  it.  It  takes  two  generations,  at  least,  to  make  such  a 
place  as  he  require^;.  The  native,  again,  is  one  of  a  class,  and  the 
most  necessary  one,  too,  in  the  country  ;  the  people  sympath'sa 
with  him,  aid  and  encourage  him.  The  emigrant-gentleman  belongs 
to  no  class,  and  wins  no  afieotion ;  he  is  kindly  received  and 
judiciously  advised  by  people  of  his  own  standing  in  life,  but  he 
aft'ects  to  consider  their  conns  '  obtrusive  and  their  society  a  bore; 
he  is,  therefore,  suffered  to  proceed  his  own  way,  which  they  all 
well  know,  as  it  has  been  so  often  travelled  before,  leads  to  ruin. 
They  pity,  but  they  can't  assist  him.  Yes,  yes,  your  sketch  of 
"  Epaigwit"  is  so  close  to  nature,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  many  a  man 
who  reads  it,  should  think  he  sees  the  history  of  his  own  place 
under  the  name  of  'the  Cucumber  ^^-ake.' " 


f 


iiih. 


824 


THE    BEOALL 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


THE    RECALL. 

In  compiling  this  Journal,  Squire,  my  object  has  been  less  to  give 
you  the  details  of  my  cruise,  than  to  furnish  you  with  my  remarks 
on  men  rnd  hings  in  general.  Climate,  locality,  and  occupation, 
form  or  v.^ry  character,  but  man  is  the  same  sort  of  critter  every- 
where. To  know  him  thoroughly  he  must  be  studied  in  his  various 
aspects.  When  I  learned  drawing,  I  had  an  India-rubber  figure 
with  springs  in  it,  and  I  u>  d  to  put  -t  into  all  sorts  of  attitudes. 
Sometimes  it  had  its  arms  up,  and  sometimes  down,  new  a-kimbo, 
and  then  in  a  boxing  posture.  1  stuck  out  its  legs,  or  made  it  stand 
bolt  upright,  and  put  its  head  every  which  way  I  could  think  of, 
and  so  on.  It  taught  me  to  draw,  and  showed  me  the  effect  of 
light  and  shade.  So  in  sketching  human  character,  feelings,  preju- 
dices, and  motives  of  action,  I  have  considered  man  at  one  time  as 
a  politician,  a  preacher,  or  a  trader,  and  at  another  as  a  country- 
man or  a  citizen,  as  ignorant  or  wise,  and  so  on.  In  this  way  1 
soon  learned  to  take  his  guage  as  you  do  a  cask  of  spirits,  and 
prove  his  strength  or  weakness  by  the  bead  I  could  raise  on  him. 

if  I  know  anything  of  these  matters,  and  you  seem  to  consait  I 
do,  why  I  won't  act*  "  Peter  Funk"  to  myself,  but  this  I  will  say 
*'  Human  natur  is  my  weakness."  Now  I  think  it  best  to  send  you 
only  such  portions  of  my  Journal  as  will  interest  you,  for  a  mere 
diary  of  a  cruise  is  a  mere  nothing.  So  I  skip  over  my  sojourn  at 
Canzeau,  and  a  trip  the  doctor  and  I  took  to  Prince  Edward's 
Island,  as  containing  nothing  but  a  sort  r^  ship's  log,  and  will  pro- 
ceed to  tell  you  about  our  sayings  and  auings  at  that  celebrated 
place  Louisburg,  in  Cape  Breton,  hich  was  twice  besieged  and 
taken,  first  by  our  colony  forefathers  from  Boston,  and  then  by 
General  Wolfe,  the  Quebec  hero,  and  of  which  nothing  now  re- 
mains but  its  name,  which  you  will  find  in  history,  and  its  harbor, 
which  you  will  find  in  the  r-ap.  The  French  thought  building  a 
fortress  was  colonization,  and  the  English  that  blowing  it  up  was 
the  right  way  ^o  settle  the  country.     The  world  is  wiser  now. 

As  we  apr  .ed  the  place  the  Doctor  said,  "  you  see,  Mr.  Slick, 
the  entrancb  juisburg  is  pointed  out  to  voyagers  coming  from 

the  eastward  by  the  ruins  of  au  jld  French  lighthouse  and  the  lan- 
tern of  a  new  one  on  the  rocky  wail  of  the  nor.    shore,  a  few  min- 

*  At  petty  auctions  in  tae  States  a  person  is  er  iloved  to  bid  u"  articles  in 
order  to  raise  their  price.  Such  a  person  is  called  a  Peter  Funk,  probably 
from  that  name  having  frequently  been  given  when  things  were  bournt  in.  In 
■hort,  it  is  now  used  ab  a  "  puffer." — Bartlett.  "  "* 


TOE     RECALL. 


825 


liij 


utC8  after  approaching  which  the  mariner  shoots  from  a  fretful  sea 
into  the  sniooth  and  capacious  port.     The  ancient  ruins  display 
even  yet  the  most  attractive  object  to  the  eye.     The  outline  of 
these  neglected  mounds,  you  observe,  is  boldly  marked  against  the 
sky,  and  niuuces  a  visit  to  the  spot  whr-o  the  fortress  once  stcod 
l^ouisburg  IS  everywhere  covered  with  a  mantle  of  turf,  and  with- 
out  the  assistance  of  a  native  it  is  not  easy  to  discover  even  the 
foundations  of  the  public  buildings.     Two  or  three  casematrstill 
ren^ain,  appearing  iiite  the  mouths  of  huge  ovens,  surmounted  bv  a 
great  mass  of  earth  and  stone.     These  caverns,  originally  the  safe- 
guards of  powder  and  other  combustible  munitions  of  war    n  >▼ 
serve  to  shelter  the  flocks  of  sheep  that  graze  upon  the  grass  that 
concea  s  them.     The  floors  are  reifdered  nearly  LpassabTeb/thl 
odor  of  these  animals,  but  the  vaulted  ceilings  are  adorned  bv  de- 
pendant stalactites,  like  icicles  in  shape,  but  rot  in  purity  of  co^ 
being  of  a  material  somewhat  similar  to  oyster  shells.     The  mas=^ 
ot  stone*  and  brick  that  composed  the  buildings,  and  which  is  now 
swept  so  completely  from  its  site,  has  been  distributed  alon^r  the 
shores  of   America  as    for  as  Halifax  and  Boston,  havin-  been 
successively  carried  away  for  the  erections  in  those  places  Jnd  the 
intermeciate  coast,  which  contains  many  a  chimney  bearin^r  the 
memoria  s  of  Louisburg.     The  remains  of  the  different  batteries  on 
the  island  and  round  the  harbor  are  s..^!  shown  by  the  inhabitants 
as  well  as  ot  the  wharves,  .^cockade,  and  i^unken  ships  of  war      On 
gaining  the  walls  above  the  town  they  ..-e  found  to  consist  of  a 
range  of  earthen  fortifications  with  projecting  angles,  and  extendin^r 
as  already  mentioned  from  the  harbor  to  the  sea,  interrupted  at  in 
tervals  by  large  pits,  said  to  have  been  produced  by  tae  elForts  of 
the  captors  to  blow  up  the  walls.     From  these  hei"<rhts  the  Hacis 
slopep.  awa/  to  the  edge  of  the  bog  outside,  forming  a  bea^'utiful 
level  walk,  though  now  only  enjoyed  by  the  sheep,  being,  like  the 
walls,  carpeteu  by  short  turf.     At  the  termination  of  this  line  of 
fortification,  on  the  sea  shore,  is  a  huge  and  uncouth  black  rock 
which  appears  to  have  been  formerly  quarrifd  for  buildincr  stone' 
large  quantities  ready  hewn  being  still  scattered  round  it,  and  gath- 
ered m  massrs  as  if  prepared  for  that  use. 

"  The  pro  ipect  from  the  brow  of  the  dilapidated  ramparts  is  on.o 
of  the  most  impressive  that  the  place  affords.  Looking  to  the 
south-west  o  or  the  former  city,  the  eye  wanders  upon  the  intermi- 
nable ocean,  its  blue  rolling  waves  occupying  three-fourths  of  the 
scene,  and  bevond  them,  on  the  verge  of  the  horizon,  a  dense  bank 
of  log  sweeps  along  with  the  prevailing  S.  W.  wind,  pu  eluding  all 
hopes  of  disberning  any  vista  beyond  that  curtain.  Turning  land- 
wards  -owards  the  souLh-west,  over  the  spacious  bog  that  lies  at 

*  See  Haliburton's  History  of  Nova  dcotia. 


I 


Pi!  I 


k 


19EA 


826 


THE     EECALr. . 


the  foot  of  the  walls,  the  sight  is  met  by  a  range  of  low  wood  in 
the  direction  of  Gabarus,  and  can  penetrate  no  further.  The  har- 
bor is  the  only  prospect  to  the  northward,  and  immediately  in  it." 
rear  the  land  rises  so  as  to  prevent  any  more  distant  view,  and 
even  the  harbor  appears  dwindled  to  a  miniature  of  itself,  being 
seen  in  the  same  picture  with  the  mighty  ocean  that  nearly  sur- 
I'ounds  the  beholder.  The  character  of  the  whole  scene  is  melan- 
choly, presenti  ig  the  memorials  of  former  life  and  population,  con- 
trasted with  its  present  apparent  isolation  from  the  natives  of  the 
earth.  The  impression  is  not  weakened  by  the  sight  of  the  few 
miserable  huts  scattered  along  the  shores  of  the  port,  and  the  little 
fishing  vessels  scarcely  perceptible  in  the  mountain  swell  of  the 
ocean  ;  they  serve  but  to  recall  painfully  the  images  of  elegant  edi- 
fices that  once  graced  the  foreground,  and  of  proud  flags  that  waved 
upon  the  face  of  that  heaving  deep. 

"  It  is  not  easy  to  give  a  reason  for  the  continued  desolation  of 
Louisburg.  A  harbor  opening  directly  upon  the  sea,  whence  egress 
is  unobstructed  and  expeditious,  and  return  equally  convenu^nt  at 
all  seasons ;  excellent  fishing  grounds  at  the  very  entrance ;  space 
on  shore  for  all  the  operations  of  curing  the  fish ;  every  advantage 
for  trade  and  the  fisheries  is  offered  in  vain.  The  place  would  ap- 
pear to  be  shunned  by  tacit  consent.  The  shallops  come  fiom 
Arichet  and  St.  Peter's  Bay  to  fish  at  its  very  mouth,  but  no  one 
sets  up  his  establishment  there.  The  merchants  resort  to  every 
station  in  its  vicinity,  to  Main-a-DIeu,  the  Bras  d'Or,  St.  Anne,  In- 
g^nish.  Lay  even  Cape  North,  places  holding  out  no  advantage  to 
coinpare  with  those  of  Louisburg,  yet  no  one  ventures  there.  The 
fatality  that  hangs  over  places  of  fallen  celebrity  seems  to  press 
heavily  on  this  once  valued  spot." 

'•  Massa  Doctor,"  said  Sorrow,  when  he  heard  this  description, 
"  peers  to  me,  dem  English  did  gib  de  French,  goss  widout  sweet- 


enin,  most  particular  jesse 


dat  are  a  nateral  fac.  By  golly,  but 
dey  was  strange  folks  boff  on  cm.  Ki,  dey  must  been  gwine 
stracted  sure  as  you  born,  when  dey  was  decomposed  (angry)  wid 
each  other,  to  come  all  de  way  out  here  to  fight.  Lordy  gracious, 
peers  to  me  crossin  de  sea  might  a  cooled  them,  sposin  dar  hair 
was  rumpled." 

"  You  are  right,  Sorrow,"  said  I ;  "  and  Doctor,  niggers  and 
women  often  come  to  a  right  conclusion,  though  they  cannot  give 
the  right  reasons  for  it,  don't  they  ?" 

"  Oh,  oh,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  be,  "  pray  don't  class  ladies  and  nig- 
gers together.  Oh,  I  thought  you  had  more  gallantry  about  you 
than  that." 

t4  T7..J,  _•!„  ?>  _,:^    I    u  ii ;-,  ...1 iU.   -.Vi--    ^j-.-l,--         -v^..    _  — 

x^iAliuiiy,     oiiiS    i,      tiiLic   i3  wiicru    lUii  Sfluu   piiicUcs.       lua   uic 

a  SO  far  and  no  further  emancipationist.     '  You  will  break  up  the 
social  system  of  the  south,  deprive  the  planter  of  his  slave,  and  set 


THE     RECALL, 


827 


the  nigger  frea  ;  but  you  will  not  admit  him  to  your  family  circle, 
associate  with  him,  or  permit  him  to  intermarry  with  your  daugh- 
ter. Ail,  Doctor,  you  can  emancipate  him,  but  you  can't  emanci- 
pate yourself  You  are  willing  to  give  him  the  liberty  of  a  dog; 
he  may  sleep  in  your  stable,  exercise  himself  in  the  coach-yard,  and 
may  stand  or  run  behind  your  carriage,  but  he  must  not  enter  the 
house,  for  he  is  ofi'ensive,  nor  eat  at  your  table,  for  the  way  he 
devours  his  food  is  wolfish ;  you  unchain  him,  and  that  is  all.  But 
before  the  collar  was  unfastened  he  was  well  and  regularly  fed, 
now  he  has  to  forage  for  it;  and  if  he  can't  pay  for  his  grub,  he 
can  and  will  steal  it.  Abolition  has  done  great  things  for  him.  He 
was  once  a  life-laborer  on  a  plantation  in  the  south,  he  is  now  a 
prisoner  for  life  in  a  penitentiar_y  in  the  north,  or  an  lUle  vagrant, 
and  a  shameless,  houseless  beggar.  The  fruit  of  cant  is  indeed  bit- 
ter. The  Yankees  emancipated  their  niggars  because  it  didn't  pay 
to  keep  slaves.  They  now  want  the  soutiiern  planters  to  liberate 
theirs  for  conscience  sake.  But  here  we  are  on  the  beach  ;  let  us 
land." 

After  taking  a  survey  of  the  scene  from  the  sight  of  the  old 
town,  we  sat  down  on  one  of  the  eastern  mounds,  and  the  Doctor 
continued  his  account  of  the  place.  "  It  took  the  French  twenty- 
live  years  to  erect  Louisburg,"  he  said,  "and  though  not  completed 
according  to  the  original  design,  it  cost  not  less  than  thirty  millions 
of  livres.  It  was  environed,  two  miles  and  a  half  in  circumference, 
with  a  stone  wall  from  thirty  to  thirty-six  feet  high,  and  a  ditch 
eighty  feet  wide.  There  was,  as  you  will  see,  six  bastions  and 
eight  batteries,  with  embrasures  for  one  hundred  and  furty-eight 
cannon.  On  thfi  island,  at  the  entrance  of  the  harbar  which  we 
just  passed,  was  a  battery  of  thirty  twenty-eight  pounders,  and  at 
the  bottom  of  the  port  another  mounting  thirty-eight  heavy  guns. 
In  1745,  a  plan  for  taking  it  was  conceived  by  a  colonial-lawyer,  a 
Governor  of  Massachusetts,  and  executed  by  a  body  of  New  Eng- 
land volunteers,  led  on  by  a  country  trader.  History  can  hardly 
furnish  such  another  instance  of  courage  and  conduct  in  an  undisci- 
plined body,  laying  siege  to  a  regular  constructed  fortress  like  this. 
Commodore  Warren,  when  first  a|jplied  to  for  assistance,  declined 
to  allbrd  it,  as  v/ell  because  he  hid  no  orders  as  that  he  thought  the 
enterprise  a  rash  one.  He  was,  however,  at  last  instructed  from 
home  to  co-operate  with  the  Yankee  troops,  and  arrived  in  season 
to  witness  the  progress  of  the  siege,  and  receive  the  whole  of  the 
honor  which  was  so  exclusively  due  to  the  provincials.  This  act 
of  insolence  and  injustice  on  the  part  of  the  British  was  never  Ibr- 
gotten  by  your  countrymen,  but  the  memory  of  favors  is  short- 
lived, and  a  similar  distribution  of  rewards  has  lately  surprised  and 
annoyed  the  Canadians.  The  colonist  who  raised  the  militia  and 
saved   Canada,    as  you  have  justly  remarked    elsewhere,    was 


'!  I  ' 


!i! 


11  « 


328 


THE     RECALL. 


knighted,  while  he  who  did  no  more  than  his  duty  as  an  officer  it. 
the  army,  was  compensated  for  two  or  three  little  affairs  in  which 
the  soldiers  were  engaged,  by  a  coronet  and  a  pension." 

"Exactly,"  says  J,  "what's  sauce  for  the  goose  ought  to  be 
sauce  for  the  gnnder;  but  it  seems  English  geese  are  all  swans." 

"Wei.,  m  1758,  it  was  again  taken  by  the  English,  who  attacked 
It  with  an  immense  and  overpowering  armament,  consisting  of  151 
sail  a^id  14,000  men.  ProKting  by  the  experience  of  the  pro- 
yincials,  they  soon  reduced  the  place,  which  it  is  astonishincr  could 
have  made  any  resistance  at  all  against  such  an  overwhelminrr 
force.  Still,  this  attack  was  mostly  an  English  one ;  and  though 
It  dwindles  into  utter  insignificance,  when  compared  with  the  pre- 
vious  capture  by  the  colonists,  occasioned  a  great  outbreak  of 
national  pride.  The  French  colors  were  carried  in  pompous 
parade,  escorted  by  detachments  of  horse  and  foot-guards,  with 
kett  e-drums  and  trumpets,  from  the  palace  of  Kensington  to  St. 
1  aul  s  Cathedral,  where  they  were  deposited  as  trophies,  under  a 
discharge  of  cannon,  and  other  noisy  expressions  of  triumph  and 
exultation.  Indeed,  the  public  rejoicings  for  the  conquest,  -.f  Lou- 
isburg,  were  diflii  cd  through  every  part  of  the  British  dominions  : 
and  addresses  of  congratulation  were  presented  ^  the  k'm<T  by  a 
great  number  of  flourishing  towns  and  corporations."  ° 

"  Twenty-five  years  afterwards,  the  colonists  who  were  denied 
the  credit  of  their  gallant  enterprise,  made  good  their  claim  to  it 
by  conquering  those  who  boasted  that  they  were  the  conquerors 
themselves." 

^  ''  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so.  Doctor,"  said  I,  "  for  I  concur 
u.  it  all.  The  English  are  liberal,  but  half  the  time  they  ain't  just. 
Spendin  money  in  colonies  is  one  thing,  but  givin  them  fair  play  is 
another.  Tl  o  army  complains  that  all  commendation  and  promo- 
tion is  reserved  for  the  staff.  Provincials  complain  of  similar 
injustice,  but  there  is  this  wide  difference,  the  one  has  the  Times 
for  its  advocate,  the  other  is  unheard  or  unheeded.  An  honent 
statesman  will  not  refuse  to  do  justice— a  wilt/  politician,  will  con- 
cede with  grace  what  he  knows  he  must  soon  yield  to  compulsion. 
The  ojd  Tory  was  a  man  after  all,  every  inch  of  him." 

"Now,"  sais  the  Doctor,  "  that  lemark  rem'nds  me  of  what  I 
have  long  intenc^ed  io  ask  you,  if  I  got  a  chance.  How  is  it,  Mr. 
Slick,  that  you,  who  are  a  republican,  whenever  you  speak  of  Eng- 
land, are  so  conservative?  It  always  seemed  to  me  as  if  it  warn't 
quite  natural.  If  1  didn't  know  you,  I  should  say  your  books  were 
written  by  a  colonist,  who  had  used  your  name  for  a  medium  for 
giving  his  own  ideas." 

Well,"  sais  i,  "  Doctor,  I  am  glad  you  asked  me,  for  I  have 
thought  myself  it  wasn't  unlikely  some  folks  would  fall  into  that 
mistake.     I'll  tell  you  how  this  comes,  though  1  wouldn't  take  the 


THE     RECALL. 


329 


trouble  to  enlighten  others,  for  it  kinder  amuses  me  to  see  a  fellow 
hnd  a  mare's  nest  with  a  te  hee's  egg  in  it.  Pirst,  I  believe  that  a 
republic  IS  the  only  form  of  government  suited  to  us,  or  practica- 
ble m  JNorth  America.  A  limited  monarchy  could  not  exist  in 
the  states,  for  royalty  and  aristocracy  never  had  an  original  root 
there.  A  military  or  despotic  one  could  be  introduced,  because  a 
standmg  army  can  do  anything,  but  it  couldn't  last  long.  Liberty 
.s  too  deeply  seated,  and  too  highly  prized,  to  be  suppressed  for 
any  length  of  time. 

,  "  Now,  I  like  a  republic,  but  I  hate  a  democracy.     The  wit  of 
man  never  could  have  devised  anything  more  beautiful,  better  bal 
anced,  and  more  skilfully  checked,  than  our  constitution  is,  or 
rather  was  ;  but  every  change  we  make  is  for  the  worse      I  am 
therefore,  a  conservative  at  home.     On  the  other  hand,  the  En^-' 
hsh  constitution  is  equally  well  suited  to  the  British.     It  is  admt 
rably  adapted  to  the  genius,  traditions,  tastes,  and  feelings  of  the 
people.     They  are  not  fitted  for  a  republic.     They  tried  it  once 
and  they  failed;  and  if  they  were  to  try  it  again,  it  would  not  sue 
ceed.     hvevy  change  thei/  make  is  also  for  the  worse.     In  talking 
therefore,  as  I  do,  I  only  act  and  talk  consistently,  when  I  say  I  aS 
a  conservative  abroad,  also. 

_  "Conservatism,  botli  in  the  States  and  in  Great  Britain  when 
rightly  understood,  has  a  fixed  prinr'nle  of  action,  which  is  to  con- 
serve  the  constitution  of  the  count.-y,  and  not  subvert  it  Now 
liberalism  everywhere  is  distinguished  by  having  no  principle.  In 
±.ngland  It  longs  for  oflice,  and  sacrifices  everything  to  it.  It  does 
nothing  but  pander.  It  says  religion  is  a  matter  of  taste,  leave  it 
to  itselt  and  it  will  take  care  of  itself— now  that  maxim  was  forced 
on  us  by  necessity,  for  at  the  revolution  we  scarcely  had  an  Episco- 
pal church,  it  was  so  small  as  hardly  to  deserve  the  name  But  in 
England,  it  is  an  unconstitutional,  irrational,  and  monstrous  maxim 
btiii  It  suits  the  views  of  Romanists,  (although  tliey  hold  no  such 
doctrine  themselves),  for  it  is  likely  to  hand  over  the  church  reven- 
ues  m  Ireland  to  them.  It  also  suits  Dissenters,  for  it  will  relieve 
them  of  church  rates,  and  it  meets  the  wishes  of  the  republican 
party,  because  they  know  no  church  and  no  bishop  will  soon  lead 
to  no  monar  b.  Again  it  says,  enlarge  the  franchise,  so  as  to  give 
an  increase  of  voters ;  thac  doctrine  suits  all  those  sections  also 
lor  it  weakens  both  monarchy  and  aristocracy.  Then  again  it  ad- 
\rza.tes  free-trade,  for  that  weakens  th?  landed  interest,  and  knocks 
froni  under  nobility  one  of  its  best  pillars.  To  lower  the  influence 
ot  the  church  pleases  all  political  come-outers,  some  for  one  and 

SOmp.  for  flnnfhpr  ropao"        Tlirii'n  ,.;^,..„ _..i   ;j      ,•      i    i     .  '..    . 

-;-.--' i^:...y....      J  !ivti   TiCTs  iiic  uuL  lueiuicai,  buc  IC  13 

^)r  their  interest  to  unite.     One  advocates  it  because  it  destroys 

Protestantism  as  a  principle  of  the  constitution,  another  because  the 

materials  of  this  fortress,  like  tiiose  of  Louisburg,  may  be  useful 

tor  erecting  others,  and  among  them  conventicles. 


880 


THE     RECALL, 


"  Then  there  is  no  truth  in  liberalism.  When  Irish  emancipation 
was  discussed,  it  was  said,  pass  that  and  you  will  hear  no  more 
grievances,  it  will  tend  to  consolidate  the  church  and  pacify  the 
people.  It  was  no  sooner  granted,  than  ten  bishopricks  were  sup- 
pressed, and  monster  meetings  paraded  through  and  terrified  the 
land.  One  cardinal  came  in  place  of  ten  Protestant  prelates,  and 
so  on.  So  liberalism  scid  pass  the  Reform  Bill,  and  all  England 
will  be  satisfied ;  well,  though  it  has  not  worked  well  for  the  king- 
dom, it  has  done  wonders  for  the  radical  party,  and  now  another 
and  moi-e  extensiv«i  one  is  promised.  The  British  Lion  has  been 
fed  with  living  raw  meat,  and  now  roars  for  more  victims.  It  'taint 
easy  to  onseat  liberals,  I  lell  you,  for  they  know  how  to  pander. 
If  you  promise  power  to  those  who  have  none,  you  must  have  the 
masses  with  you.  I  could  point  you  out  some  fellows  that  are  sure 
to  win  the  dead*  heads,  the  doughf  boys,  the  numerous  body  that 
is  on  the  fencej  and  political  "  come  outers."^  There  is  at  this 
time  a  postponed  Reformtd  Bill.  The  proposer  actually  cried  when 
it  was  deferred  to  another  session.  It  nearly  broke  his  heart.  He 
couldn't  bear  that  the  public  should  have  it  to  say,  '  they  had  seen 
the  elephant.* 

"  Seeing  the  elephant,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  was  he  so  large  a  man 
as  that ]" 

•'  Lord  bless  you,"  sais  I,  "  no,  he  is  a  little  man,  that  thinks  he 
pulls  the  wires,  like  one  of  Punch's  small  figures,  but  the  wires 
pull  him,  and  set  him  in  motion.  It  is  a  cant  term  we  have,  and 
signifies 'goi-;5  out  for  wool  lind  coming  back  shorn.'  Yes,  he 
actually  shed  tears,  like  a  cook  peelin  onions.  He  reminded  me 
of  a  poor  fellow  at  Slickville,  who  had  a  family  of  twelve  small 
children.  His  wife  took  a  day,  and  died  one  fine  morning,  leaving 
another  youngster  to  complete  the  baker's  dozen,  and  next  week 
that  dear  little  innocent  died  too.  He  took  on  dreadfully  about  it. 
He  boo-hooed  right  out,  which  is  more  than  the  po.Uticioner  did 
over  his  chloroformed  bill. 

"  '  AVhy,'  sais  I,  '  Jeddediah,  you  ought  to  be  more  of  a  man 
than  to  take  on  that  way.  With  no  means  to  support  your  family 
of  poor  helpless  little  children,  with  no  wife  to  look  after  them, 

*  Dead  heads  may  perhaps  be  best  explained  by  substituting  the  words  "  the 
unproductive  class  of  operatives,"  such  as  spend  their  time  in  alehouses.  Dem- 
agogues, the  men  who,  with  free  tickets,  travel  in  etcam-boats,  frequent  thea- 
tres, tavern-lieepers,  &c. 

t  Pliable  poUticians,  men  who  are  accessible  to  personal  influences  or  consid- 
erations. 

t  A  man  is  said  to  be  on  a  fence,  who  is  ready  to  join  the  strongest  party; 
because  he  who  sits  on  a  ienn^  is  in  a  position  to  jump  down,  with  equal  facility, 
on  either  side  of  it. 

^  "  Political  come-outers,"  are  the  loose  fish  of  all  parties.  Dissenters  from 
their  own  side.     See  Bartlett's  definition? 


THE     RECALL. 


831 


and  no  airthly  way  to  pay  a  woman  to  dry  nurse  and  starve  the 
unfortunate  baby,  it's  a  mercy  it  did  die,  and  was  taken  oi  t  of  this 
wicked  world.' 

" '  I  know  it  pnd  feel  it,  Mr.  Sam,"  said  he,  lookin  up  in  a  way 
that  nobody  but  him  could  look,  '  but — ' 

"'Butwhat?'saisl. 

"  '  Why,'  sais  he,  '  but  it  don't  do  to  say  so,  you  know.' 

"  Jist  then  some  of  the  neighbor's  came  in,  when  he  burst  out 
WUS8  than  before,  and  groaned  like  a  thousand  shiners  at  a  camp 
meetin.  ^ 

"Most  likely  the  radical  father  of  the  strangled  reform  bill  com- 
forted  himself  with  the  same  reflection,  only  he  thought  it  wouldn't 
do  to  say  so.  Crocodiles  can  cry  when  they  are  hungry,  but  when 
they  do  it's  time  to  vamose  the  poke-loken,*  that's  a  iact.  Yes, 
yes,  they  understand  these  things  to  England,  as  well  as  we  do, 
you  may  depend.  They  warn't  born  yesterday.  But  I  wont  fol- 
low it  out.  Liberalism  is  playing  the'devil  both  with  us  and  the 
British.  Change  is  going  on  with  railroad  haste  in  America,  but  in 
England,  though  it  travels  not  so  fast,  it  never  stops,  and  like  a 
steam-packet  that  has  no  freight,  .  daily  increases  its  rate  of  speed 
as  it  advances  towards  the  end  of  the  vo;y.age.  Now  you  have  my 
explanation,  Doctor,  why  I  am  a  conservative  on  principle,  both  at 
home  and  abroad." 

"  Well,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  that  is  true  enough  as  far  as  Eng- 
land is  concerned,  but  still  I  don't  quite  understand  how  it  is,  as  a 
republican,  you  are  so  much  of  a  conservative  at  home,  for  your 
reasons  appear  to  me  to  be  more  aipplicable  to  Britian  than  to  the 
United  States." 

"  Why,"  sais  I,  "  my  good  friend,  liberalism  is  the  same  thing 
in  both  countries,  though  its  work  and  tactics  may  be  different.  It 
is  destructive,  but  not  creative.  It  tampers  with  the  checks  and 
balances  of  our  constitution.  It  flatters  the  people  by  removing 
the  restraints  they  so  wisely  placed  on  themselves  to  curb  their 
own  impetuosity.  It  has  shaken  the  stability  of  the  judiciary  by 
making  the  experiment  of  electing  the  judges.  It  has  abolished 
equity  in  name,  but  infused  it  so  strongly  in  the  administration  of 
the  law  that  the  distinctive  boundaries  are  destroyed,  and  the  will 
of  the  court  is  now  substituted  for  both.  In  proportion  as  the 
independence  of  these  high  officers  is  diminished,  their  integrity 
may  be  doubted.  Elected,  and  subsequently  sustained  by  a  fac- 
tion, they  become  it«  tools,  and  decide  upon  party,  and  not  legal 
grounds.  In  like  manner,  wherever  the  franchise  was  limited,  the 
hm.it  is  attempted  to  bo  removed.     \Ve  are,  "n  fact,  fast  merging 


m\ 


*  Poke-loken.  a  marshy  place,  or  stagnant  pool,  connected  with  a  river. 


f^^ 


832 


THE    RECALL. 


into  »  mere  pure  democracy,*  for  the  first  blow  on  the  point  of  th? 
wedge  that  secures  the  franchise,  weakens  it  so  that  it  is  sure  to 
come  out  at  last.  Our  liberals  know  this  as  well  as  your  British 
Gerrymanderers  do." 

*'  Oerrymanderers,''f  he  said,  "  who  in  the  world  are  they  ?  I 
never  heard  of  them  before." 

"  Why,"  sais  I,  "skilful  politicians,  who  so  arrange  the  electoral 
districts  of  a  state,  that  in  an  erection  one  party  may  obtain  an  ad- 
vantage over  its  opponent,  even  though  the  latter  may  possess  a 
majority  of  the  votes  in  the  state ;  the  truth  is,  it  would  be  a  long 
story  to  go  through,  but  we  are  corrupted  by  our  liberals  with  our 
own  money,  that's  a  fact.  Would  you  believe  it  now,  that  so  long 
ago  as  six  years,  and  that  is  a  great  while  in  our  history,  seein'  we 
are  growing  at  such  a  rate,  there  were  sixty  thousand  offices  in  the 
gift  of  the  general  government,  and  patronage  to  the  extent  of  more 
than  forty  million  of  dollars,  besides  official  pickings  and  parqui- 
sites,  which  are  nearly  as  much  more  in  the  aggregate.  Since  then 
it  has  grown  with  our  growth.  Or  would  you  believe  that  a  larger 
sum  is  assessed  in  the  city  of  New  York,  than  would  cover  the 
ST^penses  of  the  general  government  of  Washington.  Constructive 
mileage  may  be  considered  as  the  principle  o*"  the  party,  and 
literally  runs  through  everything." 

''  What  strange  terms  you  have,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  "  do,  pray, 
tell  me  what  that  is." 

"  Snooping  and  stool-pidgeoning,"  sais  I. 

"Constructive  mileage,  snooj^ing  and  stool-pidgeoning!!"  said 
he,  and  he  put  his  hands  on  his  ribs,  and  running  round  in  a  circle, 

*  De  Tocqueville,  who  has  written  incomparably  the  best  work  that  has  ever 
appeared  on  the  United  States,  makes  the  ibllowing  judicious  remarks  on  this 
subject :  "  Where  a  nation  modifies  the  elective  qualification,  it  may  easily  be 
foreseen,  that  sooner  or  later  that  qualification  will  be  abolished.  There  is  no 
more  invariable  rule  in  the  history  of  society.  The  farther  electoral  rin:hts  are 
extended,  the  more  is  felt  the  need  of  extending  them  ;  for  after  each  conces- 
sion, the  strength  of  the  democracy  increases,  and  its  demands  increase  with  its 
strength.  The  ambition  of  those  who  are  below  the  appointed  rate  is  irritated, 
in  exact  proportion  of  the  number  of  those  who  are  above  it.  The  exception 
at  last  becomes  the  rule,  concession  follows  concession,  arid  no  step  can  be 
made,  short  of  universal  suflragc. 

t  This  term  came  into  use  in  the  year  1811,  in  Massachusetts,  where,  for 
several  years  previous,  the  Federal  and  Democratic  parties  stood  nearly  equal. 
In  that  year,  the  Democratic  party,  having  a  majority  in  the  Legislature,  deter- 
mined so  to  district  the  State  anew,  that  those  sections  which  gave  a  large  num- 
ber of  Federal  votes,  might  be  brought  into  one  district.  The  result  was,  that 
the  Democratic  parly  carried  everything  before  them  at  the  following  election, 
and  filled  every  office  in  the  State,  although  it  appeared  by  the  votes^returned, 
that  nvdtly  two-thirds  of  the  votes  were  Federalists.  Eldridge  Gerry,  a  distin- 
guished politician,  at  that  period,  was  the  inventor  of  that  plan,  which  was 
called  gerrymandering,  after  him. — Glossary  of  America7iisms. 


THE    RECALL 


333 


laughed  until  he  nearly  fell  on  the  ground  fairly  tuckered  out. 
what  do  you  mean  V  * 

,  "Constructive  mileage,"  sais  I,  "is  the  same  allowance  for 
journeys  mpposed  to  be  performed,  as  for  those  that  are  acbiaUy 
made,  to  and  from  the  seat  of  government.  When  a  new  President 
comes  mto  office.  Congress  adjourns,  of  course,  on  the  third  of 
March  and  Ins  mauguration  is  made  on  the  fourth:  the  senate  is 
immediately  convened  to  act  on  his  nominations,  and  though  not  a 
man  of  them  leaves  Washington,  each  is  sur>posed  to  go  home  and 
return  again,  in  the  course  of  th-  ten  or  twelve  hours  that  intervene 
between  the  adjournment  and  their  reassembling.  For  this  ideal 
journey  the  senators  are  allowed  their  mileages,  as  if  the  journey 
vvas  actually  made.  In  the  case  of  those  who  come  from  a  distance, 
the  sum  often  amounts,  individually,  to  one  thousand  or  fifteen 
hundred  dollars." 

II  Why,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  «  that  ain't  honest." 
Honest,  said  I ;  who  the  plague  ever  said  it  was ;  hut  what 
can  you  expect  from  red  ro4)ublicans  ?  Well,  snooping  means  tak- 
ing  things  on  the  sly  after  a  good  rummage,  and  stool-pidgeoning 
means  plundering  under  cover  of  law;  for  instance,  if  a  iudge 
takes  a  bribe,  or  a  fellow  is  seized  by  a  constable,  and  the  stolln 
property  found  on  him  is  given  up,  the  merciful  officer  seizes  the 
goods  and  lets  him  run,  and  that  is  all  that  is  ever  heard  of  it— 
that  IS  stool-pidgeoning.  But  now,"  sais  I,  "  sposin'  we  take  a  sur- 
vey  of  the  place  here,  for  in  a  general  way  I  don't  affection  politics, 
and  as  for  party  leaders,  whether  English  reformers  or  American 
democrats  critters  that  are  dyed  in  the  wool,  I  hate  the  whole 
caboodle  of  them.  Now  having  donated  you  with  my  reasons  for 
being  a  conservative,  sposin'  you  have  a  row  yourself.  What  do 
you  consider  best  worth  seeing  here,  if  you  can  be  said  to  see  a 
place  when  it  don  t  exist ;  for  the  English  did  sartainly  deacon  the 
calf  here  that  s  a  fact.  They  n.ade  them  smell  cotton,  and  pave 
them  partikilar  moses,  and  no  mistake." 

"  Of  the  doings  of  the  dead,"  he  said,  "  all  that  is  around  us  has 
a  melancholy  interest ;  but  of  the  living  there  is  a  most  extraordU 
nary  old  fellow  that  dwells  ir.  that  white  house  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  harbor.  He  can  cell  us  all  the  particulars  of  the  two  sieges 
and  show  us  Jie  site  of  most  of  the  public  buildings;  he  is  filled 
with  anecdotes  of  all  the  principal  actors  in  the  sad^tragedies  that 
have  been  enacted  here  ;  but  he  labors  under  a  most  singular  mo- 
nomania.  Having  told  these  stories  so  often,  he  now  believes  that 
he  was  present  at  the  first  capture  of  the  fortress,  under  Colonel 
Pepperal  and  the  New  Eno-lanrl  niiiit;a  Jp  I74n  q„ri  of  fU^  o-o — j 
m  1754,  when  it  was  taken  by  Generals  Amherst  and  W-^fi?.     I 

*  To  deacon  a  calf,  is  to  knock  a  thing  on  the  head  as  soon  as  born  or  finished 


884 


IHE     RECALL, 


suppose  he  may  be  ninety  years  of  age  ;  the  fir^t  event  .nust  have 
happened  therefore  nineteen,  and  the  other,  six  years  before  he  was 
born  ;  in  everything  else  his  accuracy  of  dates  and  details  is  per- 
fectly astonishing." 

"  Massa,"  said  Sorrow,  "  I  don't  believe  he  is  nuffin  but  a  ree. 
blushionary  suspensioner  (a  revolutionary  pensioner),  but  it  peers 
dern  folks  do  lib  for  ebber.  My  poor  old  Missus  used  to  call  'era 
King  George's  hard  bargains,  yah,  yah,  yah.  But  who  come  dere, 
Massa  ? "  said  he,  pointing  to  a  boat,  that  was  rapidly  approaching 
the  spot  where  we  stood. 

The  steersman,  who  appeared  to  be  the. skipper  of  a  vessel,  in- 
quired for  Cutler  and  gave  him  a  letter  ; — who  said,  as  soon  as  he 
had  read  it,  "  Slick,  our  cruise  has  come  to  a  sudden  termination. 
Blowhard  has  purchased  and  fitted  out  his  whaler,  and  only  awaits 
rny  return  to  take  charge  of  her  and  proceed  to  the  Pacific.  With 
his  usual  generosity,  he  has  entered  my  name  as  the  owner  of  one 
half  of  the  ship,  her  tackle  and  outfit.  I  must  go  on  board  the 
*  Black  Hawk'  immediately,  and  prepare  for  departing  this 
evening." 

It  was  agreed  that  he  should  land  the  Doctor  at  Ship  Harbor, 
who  was  anxious  to  see  Jessie,  which  made  him  as  happy  as  a  clam 
at  high-water, — and  put  me  ashore  at  Jordan,  where  I  was  no  less 
in  a  hurry  to  see  a  fair  friend  whose  name  is  of  no  consequence 
now,  for  1  hope  to  induce  her  to  change  it  for  one  that  is  far  shorter, 
easier  to  write  and  remember ;  and  though  I  say  it  that  shouldn't 
bay  it, — one  that,  I  consait,  she  needn't  be  ashamed  of  neither. 

On  our  way  back,  sais  the  Doctor  to  me  : 

"  Mr.  Slick,  will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you  another  question '" 

"  A  hundred,"  sais  I,  "  if  you  like." 

"  Well,"  sais  he,  "  1  have  inquired  of  you  what  you  think  of 
state  affairs;  will  you  tell  me  what  you  think  about  the  Church? 
I  see  you  belong  to  what  we  call  the  Establishment,  and  what  you 
denominate  the  American  Episcopal  Church,  which  is  very  nearly 
the  same  thing.  What  is  your  opinion  now,  of  the  Evangelical  and 
Puseyite  parties  ?     Which  is  right,  and  which  is  wrong  ?" 

"  Well,"  sais  J,  "  coming  to  me  about  theology  is  like  going  to  a 
goat's  house  for  wool.  It  is  out  of  my  line.  My  views  on  til  sub- 
jects are  practical,  and  not  theoretical.  But  first  and  foremost,  I 
must  tell  you,  I  hate  all  nick-names.  In  general,  they  are  all  a 
critter  knows  of  his  own  side,  or  the  other  either.  As  you  have 
asked  me  my  opinion,  though  I  will  give  it,  I  think  both  parties  arc 
wrong,  because  both  go  to  extremes,  and  are  therefore  to  be 
equally  avoided.  Our  articles,  as  dear  old  Minisf^r  used  to  sav,  are 
very  wisely  so  worded  as  to  admit  of  some  considerable  latitude 
of  opinion  ;  bu*^  that  very  latitude  naturally  excludes  anything 
ultra.     The  Puritanical  section,  and  the  Newmanites  (for  Puse}-^ 


THE     KECALL. 


B86 


BO  far,  is  steadfast),  are  not,  in  fact,  real  churchmen,  and  ought  to 
leave  us.  One  are  dissenters,  and  the  other  Romanists.  The 
ground  they  severally  stand  on  is  slippery.  A  false  step  takes  one 
to  the  conventicle,  and  the  other  to  the  chapel.  If  I  was  an  Evan- 
gehcal,  as  an  honest  man,  I  would  quit  the  Establishment,  as  Bap. 
tist  Noel  did,  and  eo  1  would  if  1  were  a  Newmanite.  It's  only- 
rats  that  consume  the  food  and  undermine  the  foundations  of  the 
house  that  shelters  them.  A  traitor  within  the  camp  is  more  to  be 
dreadod  than  an  open  enemy  without.  Of  the  two,  the  extreme 
low-churchmen  are  the  most  dangerous,  for  they  furnish  the  great- 
est number  of  recruits  for  scnism,  and,  strange  to  say,  for  popery 

aT*'  ^f^r^  ^^^  ^'^^  ^^  ^^°^^  ^'^^  ^^^^  g''"e  over  to  Rome,  fiom 
Ahao  Meldrum  to  Wilbern)rce,  and  you  will  find  the  majority  were 
originally  Puritans  or  infidels— men,  who  were  restless,  a>id  ambi- 
tious  ot  notoriety— who  had  learning  and  talent,  but  Wi-Ucd 
common  sense.  They  set  out  to  astonish  the  world,  a:id  ended  by 
astonishing  thrunselves.  They  went  forth  in  pursuit  of  a  name,  and 
lobt  the  only  one  they  were  known  by.  Who  can  recognize  New- 
man  in  father  Ignatius,  who,  while  searching  for  truth,  embraced 
error?  or  Baptist  Noel  in  the  strolling  preacher,  who  uses  a  horse- 
pond  instcud  (^1  a  font,  baptizes  adults  instead  of  infants,  and,  unlike 
Ills  Master,  '  will  not  sutler  little  children  to  come  unto  him  '  Ah 
JJoctor,  there  are  texts  neither  of  these  men  know  the  meanin.^  of 

Vanity  of  vanities,  all  is  vanity.'  One  of  them  has  yet  to  learii 
that  'ctures,  vestments,  music,  processions,  candlesticks,  and  con- 
tessionals  are  not  religion  ;  and  the  other,  tliat  it  does  not  consist 
in  oratory,  excitement,  camp-meetings,  rant,  or  novelties.  There 
are  niany  very  many,  unobtrusive,  noiseless,  laborious,  practical 
duties  which  clergymen  have  to  perform  :  what  a  pity  it  is  they 
won  t  occupy  themselves  in  discharging  them,  instead  of  entangling 
themselves  in  controversies  on  subjects  not  necessary  to  salvation  ' 
But,  alas  !  the  Evangelical  divine,  instead  of  combating  the  devil 
occupies  himself  in  fighting  his  bishop;  and  the  Newmauite! 
instead  of  striving  to  save  sinners,  prefers  to  «  curse  and  quit  his 
church.  Don  t  ask  me,  therefore,  which  is  riaht :  I  tell  you  they 
are  both  wrongs  j  j 

"  Exactly,"  sais  he. 

"  In  medio  tntissimus  ibis." 

"  Doctor,"  sais  I,  "  there  are  five  languages  spoke  on  the  Nova 
Scotia  coast  already  :  English,  Yankee,  Gaelic,  French,  and  Indian: 

for  flroodness'  jrrflfinns  snl-p    rl/^n'f  fl.r  rxff  fUa  u.,„Ji„  i.i,„i.  — -..    --,- 

and  add  Latin  to  them  !  But,  my  friend,  as  I  have  said,  you  have 
waked  up  the  wrong  passenger,  if  you  think  I  am  an  ecclesiastical 
Bradshaw.     I  know  my  own  track.     It  is  a  broad  gauge,  and  a 


336 


THE     RECALL. 


straight  line,  and  I  never  travel  by  another,  for  fear  of  being  put  on 
a  wrong  one.  Do  you  talte  ?  But  here  is  the  boat  alongside;'* 
and  I  shook  him  by  the  hand,  and  obtained  his  promise,  at  parting, 
that  he  and  Jessie  would  visit  me  at  Slickville  in  the  autumn. 

And  now,  Squire,  I  must  write  finis  to  the  cruise  of  the  "  Black 
llawk,"  and  close  my  remarks  on."  Nature  and  Human  Natun-," 
or,  "  Men  and  Things;"  for  I  have  brought  it  to  a  termination, 
though  it  is  a  hard  thing  to  do,  I  assure  you,  for  I  seem  as  if  I 
couldn't  say  farewell.  It  is  a  word  that  don't  come  handy,  no  how 
I  can  fix  it.  It's  like  Sam's  hat-band,  which  goes  nineteen  times 
round,  and  won't  tie  at  last.  I  don't  like  to  bid  good-bye  to  my 
Journal,  and  I  don't  like  to  bid  good-bye  to  you  ;  for  one  is  li.  ,  a 
child,  and  the  other  a  brothei*.  The  first  I  shall  see  again,  when 
Hurst  has  a  launch  in  the  spring  ;  but  shall  you  and  1  ever  :  lect 
again,  Squire  ?  that  is  the  question,  for  it  is  dark  to  me.  If  it 
ever  does  come  to  pass,  there  must  be  a  considerable  slip  of  time 
first.  Well,  what  can't  be  cured  must  be  endured.  So  here  goes. 
Here  is  the  last  fatal  word  ;  I  shut  my  eyes  when  I  write  it,  for  I 
ean't  bear  to  see  it.     Here  it  is  "  . 


Am2'>ersand, 


TBI  UO 


New  Works  by  Miss  E.  Marryatt. 

(DAUGIITKK  OK  CAITAl.V  MAKKYATT.) 


>•♦■♦•••-< 


HENRY  LYLE  ;  or  TJFE  AND  EXISTENCE. 

iL'rno.  Cloth,     I'rico  $1  00. 

TE^IPEll;    A   TALE. 

I2rr.  >.  Cloth,  I'rioo  |1  00. 
Tho  aboro  noyols.  by  Ui«  tub  rjtod  diuiKhtor  of  tho  bito  Captain  Mar- 
ryatt  woro  writton  in  complhinco  with  iho  wi^hcm  of  hor  father  ox- 
prcsH..rt  n  8hort  time  proviouH  to  hiw  d.uth  ;  and  tho  fair  antliorcHH  -.w- 
lu<i.;H  to  thiH  circuniHtanco  by  way  of  apol„Ky,  i.  tho  prefaco  to  "T«rn. 
per.  Wo  predict  lor  thorn  a  wido  nproad  popularity.  They  are  orl- 
ginal  in  Htyhs  truly  moral  and  roligiouH  lu  tono,  and  aro  cal(;ulutod  to 
accompliHl,  in.ich  good,  aH  tho  author  airnH  Homo  tolling  bl(,WH  at  tho 
tondency  ot  the  proaeut  gcucratioii  towardH  InJideiUy,  and  other  mod- 


Works  by  the  Author  of  "Zaidee. 


>j 


ADAM  GRAEME,  OV  MOSSGRAY. 

l2mo.  Cloth.  I'rico  |1  00, 
Tho  characters  a> .  paintc-d  in  bold  roliot,  and  m>.m  to  livo,  move 
ana  Hpoak  boforo  yon.  Not  ono  Ih  ovonlrawn,  and  y(!t  oach  conioH  up 
to  tho  popular  standard,  in  point  of  iutoroHt,  individualization,  and 
Bpirit.  iho  talo  i.s  indeed,  "  Bad,  high  and  working  ;  full  of  «tato 
and  woe  ;  but  it  Ih  pleaHant  enough  for  all  that,  and  tho  wAn-.r,  truth- 
lul  ('ainostnoHH  with  which  It  Ih  related,  will  at  once  communicate  it- 
Belt  to  the  mind  of  the  most  fastidious  and  hypercritical  poruHor  of 
modern  volumcH. 


MAGDALEN   HEPBURN  ; 
•^    story  or  the   HcoUlHh   Mieformation, 

12mo.  Cloth,  I'rico  $1  00. 
This  rhamiing  r..-vel.  by  the  author  of  "  /uidf-e,"  will  be  welcomod 
by  all  who  have  ha<l  tho  pbiamiro  of  readi.ig  tho  former  jiroduction. 
The  quaint  originali  y,  tho  h«;althy  and  c^ioerful  religiouH  tone,  and 
charming  nimplicity  und  good  h.uho  of  thiH  volume,  will  render  it  a 
general  and  permanent  favorite.  A  work  which  will  bo  n.-ad  m  long 
as  any  volum<;  of  our  ti.Tie.  We  know  of  no  fiction,  in  fact,  that  we 
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read  for  amuHemont,  it  will  delight  hh  well  aH  improve  i  e  who  w;ek 
for  Hometliing  even  in  a  novel.  It  Fh  fancinating  from  Iwginning  to 
ending,  and  no  reader  will  lay  it  down,  after  perusal,  without  winhing 
tne  author  bud  extended  its  pages. 


/ 


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THE    ARTIST'S    ERIDE  ; 

OR,     THE     PAWNBFIOKER'S     HEIR. 

A  Novel,  by  Emkuson  Bennet. 

12mo.  Cloth,— 420  page?,— Price  1  00. 

"  We  have  perused  this  work  with  some  attention,  and  do  not  hesitate 
1,0  pronounce  it  one  of  the  very  best  productions  of  the  talented  author. 
There  is  not  a  page  that  does  not  glow  with  thrilling  and  interesting 
incident,  and  will  well  repay  the  reader  for  the  time  occupied  in  pe- 
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ly natural  throufjiiout.  We  have  derived  so  much  gratification  from 
the  perusal  of  this  charming  novel,  thiit  we  are  anxious  to  make  our 
readers  share  it  with  us  :  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  recommend  it  to 
be  read  by  all  persons  who  are  fond  of  romantic  adventures.  Mr. 
Bennett  is  a  spirited  and  vi^oroua  writer,  and  his  works  deserve  to  be 
generally  read  ;  not  only  because  they  are  well  written,  but  that  they 
are,  in  most  part,  taken  from  events  connected  with  the  history  of  our 
own  country,  from  which  much  valuable  information  is  derived,  and 
should,  therefore,  have  a  double  claim  upon  our  preference,  over  those 
works  where  the  incidents  are  gleanod  from  the  romantic  legends  of 
old  castles  and  foreign  climes. — Louviville  Journal. 


DICK    TARLETO]^; 

OK, 

THE     LAST     OF     HIS    RAOE. 

Containing  112  very  large  octavo  cages.  Price  25  cts.,  and  the  book 
sent  free  of  postae;e.  This  well  wri  .on  work  l,as  been  pronounced  by 
good  judges  ^e  the  best  ot  Mr.  Smith's  production.  This  is  saying 
a  great  deal,  considering  that  gentlemen  is  the  author  of "  Minnie 
Grey,"  and  "  Woman  and  her  Master," — wciks  which  have  become 
famous  with  novel  readers. 


CYRILLA.; 

A    ROMANCE. 
BY    THE    AUTHOR    OF    THE    INITIALS. 

Large  Cctavo. — Price  50c. 

Every  person  who  has  read  that  charming  novel,  "  The  Initials,'' 
should  purchase  a  copy  of  "  Cyrilla."  It  is  one  of  the  best  novels  that 
has  been  published  in  the  past  ten  years.  There  is,  probably  no  work 
of  fiction  now  before  the  public  that  surpasses  it  for  power,  pathos, 
depth  of  plot,  delineation  of  character  and  brilliancy  of  sentiment.  It 
forcibly  shows  that  "  Many  who  have  perished  have  erred  and  sinned 
for  woman." 

Copies  of  the  above  books  sent  by  mail  free  of  postage.  Send  cash 
orders  to  GARRETT,  DICK  &  FITZGERALD, 

No.  18  Ann  st..  New  York. 


■  .    ^G 


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S«nd  ca«n  orders  to  GAIiRETT,  DICE  2  PlS 


No.  18  Ann  Str-  .t,  New  York. 


E'-'fi 


LIVE  AND  LEABN ; 

A  GUIDE  FOR  ALL  WHO  WISU  TO 

SPEAK  AND  WaiTE   CORRECTLY: 

particularly  intended  as  a  Book  of  Reference  for  the  Solution  of  Difficulties 
connected  with  (irammar,  Composition,  Punctuation,  &c.,  with  Explauationa 
of  Latin  and  French  words  and  Phrases  of  frequent  occurrence  in  Newspa- 
pers, Reviews,  Periodicals,  and  Books  in  general  containing  Examples  of 

•ONE    THOUSAND    MISTAKES 
of  Daily  Occurrence,  in  Speaking,  Writing  and  Pronunciation.    Together 
with  Detailed  Instructions  for  Writing  for  the  Pn    -,  and  forms  oi  Articles 
iti  the  vario'js  departments  of  Newspaper  Literati    3.    216  pages,  bound  in 
Cloth,  I2mo,  price  50  cents,  and  sent  to  any  addr    s  free  0/  poslafre. 

'•  Live  and  Learn"  is  a  most  useful  book,  desi  led  as  a  Guide  co  Gram 
mar.  Composition,  and  Punctuation.  So  few  people  speak  or  write  really 
good  grimniar,  and  fewer  still  punctuate  decently,  that  a  book  that  informs 
them  how  to  do  so — and  not  only  that  indicates  their  faults,  but  shows  them 
how  they  are  to  be  corrected — cannot  fail  to  be  popular ;  there  is  not  a 
person  indeed,  who  might  not  learn  something  from  it. 

No  work  heretofore  written  on  this  subject  contains  one  half  the  really 
useful  information  that  the  present  does.  It  should  be  in  the  hand  of  every 
man,  woman  and  child  in  the  country,  and  vi  alike  invaluable  to  the  Scholar, 
the  Merchant,  the  Farmer,  and  the  Artizan. 

There  are  hundreds  of  persons  engaged  in  professional  and  commercial 
pursuits,  who  are  sensible  ot  their  dehciencies  on  many  points  connected 
with  thftgrimmar  of  their  own  tongue,  and  who.  by  self-tuition,  are  anxious 
to  correct  ;<uch  deficiencies,  -,nd  to  acquire  the  means  of  speaking  and 
writing,  if  not  with  tlegance  at  least  with  a  due  regard  to  grammatical  ac- 
curacy, to  v,  horn  this  little  work  is  "indispensible.''  Asa  book  of  lefer- 
eao«,  "  Live*  and  Learn"  will  settle  many  disputes.  It  ought  to  be  on  every 
table,  and  be  particularly  recommended  to  the  young,  before  habit  makes 
common  V     ders  uncommon  hard  t"  cure. 

OPINIOfVS  OF  THE  PRESS. 

"  Live  and  Learn"  is  an  excellent  book.  To  show  our  appreciation  of  its 
merits  we  have  had  it  cased  in  leather,  and  have  made  a  pocket  companion 
of  it.  We  look  npon  it  &»  tea.\ly  indispemible.  We  advise  our  readers  to 
imitate  our  example— procure  the  book  and  sell  it  not  for  any  price  —Edu- 
cational Gazette. 

Such  a  book  as  this  hiis  long  been  wanted  by  those  who  entertain  the 
wish  alluded  to  in  the  title.  It  is  suitable  for  all  classes.  We  have  atten- 
tively conned  its  pagos,  and  can  '^eeommend  it  as  one  of  the  best  works  vf 
reference  for  the  young  student,  or  even  the  ripe  scholar,  and  as  deserving 
to  be  generally  ennsul'cd.  The  work  is  altogether  useful  and  indispensible. 
— New   York   Tribune. 

This  book,  particularly  intended  as  a  work  of  reference  for  the  solucion 
of  difficulties  connected  with  grammar,  composition  and  punctuation^  etc., 
etc.,  will  be  found  useful  by  those  who  have  not  received  a  souu  1  elementa- 
ry education  and  who  neverthsli'ss  move  in  position. — Daily  Times. 

This  capital  work  not  only  gives  examples  of  over  1000  mistakes,  but  it 
gives  rules  for  their  correction  so  clear,  so  terse,  and  at  once  so  simple  that 
the  most  ordinary  mind  cannot  fail  to  comprehend  their  meaning.  This  is 
one  of  the  chief  beauties  of  "  Live  and  Learn,"  for  what  is  the  use  of  point- 
ing out  a  grammatical  error  without  giving  a  key  to  its  correction  ?  There 
has  been  several  catchpenny  works  on  this  subject  lately  issued.  They  tell 
the  reader  that  mistakes  exist,  but  give  no  rule  for  their  avoidance.  If  you 
want  a  really  go  id  work,  buy  "  Live  and  Learn." 

Bend  cash  orders  to  GARRETT  DICK  &  FITZGERALD, 

No.  18  Ann  St.  N.  Y. 


vurtr 


